


Voltaire to Versace

by AstralAffairs



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, College, F/M, International Relations, Philosophy, Political Alliances, Professors, Reader-Insert, TA Reader, Teacher-Student Relationship, University, Washington D.C., but i stg it isnt creepy, but there are hints of laf/reader, dolley madison is the love of my life, fyi thom is the main love interest, mostly for plot purposes, professor thomas jefferson, so srry if u came here looking for a laf/reader, theyre like 6/7 yrs apart, westphalia university isnt real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26489953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstralAffairs/pseuds/AstralAffairs
Summary: From Francis Bacon to Foucault, Descartes to Dante, your political philosophy seminar doesn’t promise to be a blowout — and yet, one mysterious stranger and a risqué evening later, your Burberry-clad professor gives you the feeling it won’t be quite the snoozefest you’d expected.
Relationships: Dolley Madison/James Madison, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Reader, Thomas Jefferson/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. First Night Stand

**WASHINGTON D.C. — HOME** to the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, a metro that _no longer_ catches on fire, and most importantly, one Y/N L/N’s new university. Coming in as a transfer student in the second semester of her junior year wasn’t exactly her ideal scenario, but walking across a stage in a cap and gown sixteen months later certainly was – a degree is a degree.

She’d spent the previous two semesters abroad, traveling throughout Europe and trying to figure out her next step. She hadn’t yet paid her junior year tuition, and on one fateful night in northern Italy, she transferred to the University of Westphalia on a whim (that whim being a generous financial aid package and a pre-existing housing offer, but that was neither here nor there). It’d been a jarring few months, spending the Christmas season packing up her entire life to not only leave Europe — a process that came with many heartbroken nights of hotboxing a friend’s apartment and mourning the loss of her societal nap times — but also finally abandoning her hometown in favor of moving to the east coast.

The change may have left a lump in her throat, but it lifted a weight from her shoulders; she felt light on her feet despite the heavy D.C. snow. Much of the credit for that had to fall to her dearest Dolley Payne, the light of her life, the wind beneath her wings, the old best friend who’d found herself a dirt-cheap apartment just outside of campus and offered that Y/N come be her roommate. How could she resist a proposal like that?

However, that was also how she found herself a drink and a half deep and putting back on her boots at nine o'clock the night before classes started.

“Are you sure going out right before the first day back is a good idea?” Though Y/N was eyeing Dolley skeptically, she just rolled her eyes, pulling on her coat and scarf.

“Relax, it’s not like we’re going clubbing,” she assured her, but when Y/N raised a dubious eyebrow, she continued, “Come _on_! You literally moved in last night. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t take you out at least once before everything’s back in college mode?”

Dolley nudged Y/N playfully as she pulled on her coat, and the latter sighed. “I’m a new student here, Doll. I don’t think showing up hungover to my first class is a particularly good look.”

“You don’t even have class until 3 PM!” she argued, and though she pursed her lips, Y/N had to admit Dolley had a point. “Relax, I won’t even get you drunk. I just _need_ you to come see the cute little speakeasy on fourth street. It’s my favorite spot.”

“‘Speakeasy’?” Y/N questioned, buttoning up the front of her coat, and Dolley nodded enthusiastically.

“Mhm. You’ve gotta know somebody to know about it,” she said. “It’s a pretty open secret in this neighborhood, but it’s one of the only bars that isn’t always crowded.”

“It’s a Sunday night; how many people are really going out drinking?”

Dolley gave her a tired glance. “You’d be surprised.”

* * *

 **AND WHEN THEY** stumbled upon the bar not twenty minutes later, surprised she was.

“This is really the place?” Y/N was looking around skeptically, struggling to believe that the dirty, dank alley she’d been led into was was the entrance to Dolley’s favorite spot in town. Had Dolley decided to murder her now that her name was on the lease, if only for the insurance payout? Had she been dealing with the mafia? Maybe she’d changed more in the past year or so than Y/N thought.

“Do I ever steer you wrong?” Dolley asked, eliciting a heavy sigh from the other woman.

“Too often to try and count.”

“So then it’s long overdue that I get it right.” She finally stopped in front of a nondescript, weathered metal door in the back of a mildly battered building, and Y/N all but skidded to a halt, having been expecting to keep walking a while longer. She was hesitant to follow when the door Dolley opened revealed a set of stairs going up, but taking a step forward revealed the warm light filtering down toward them, carrying alongside it traces of jazz music and animated chatter. “See? I know what I’m talking about sometimes.”

“ _Sometimes_ ,” Y/N repeated, unconvinced.

When they emerged just moments later, Y/N decided fairly quickly that she liked it. It was quaint, old-fashioned, but a warm, charming space.

“So?” Dolley asked, and though she gave a noncommital shrug, Y/N was smiling. “Let’s get a drink or two in you and maybe you’ll give it the credit it deserves.” And maybe, just maybe, Dolley had hit the mark once again.

Two drinks and an hour later, the both of them were seated at the bar, giggling and slumped over one another but far from drunk. As it turned out, a year apart left them with a surprising amount to talk about, from Y/N’s hostel horror stories to Dolley’s nightmare of a former roommate – both of which left them endlessly grateful that they were going to be living together from then on. Their coats were draped over the backs of their seats, and the energy spilling over from their spirited conversation was born more of a sugar high than of any real intoxication – both their drinks were heavy with fruit juice and mixers, if only for the sake of sobriety.

“…but that was when the cops showed up.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Dolley had only finished detailing about a semester and a half of her freshman year, and she was still at least fifteen minutes into sharing her first run-in with UW’s notorious midterm rager. “You can’t just stop the story there!”

“But there’s no more to tell! No one stuck around to get arrested. We were on the steps of the library, for heaven’s sake.”

“So you just left? How’d you get away?”

“Oh,” Dolley giggled, a hand resting on Y/N’s knee as she leaned toward her in her short fit of laughter. “Well, I just ran for it, and very nearly got myself hopelessly lost. A grad student ended up letting me hide out in the library until it all cleared up.”

“A grad student, huh?” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “And you spent the whole night locked in there with them?”

“Oh, you know it’s not like that! I was nineteen, don’t you start making drama where there isn’t any.”

“But Doll, you know that’s my specialty,” Y/N whined, and Dolley laughed. “Anyway, were they cute, though?”

“All I’ll say is that if I were trapped in a library with them tomorrow, I’d feel lucky to be on birth control.”

Dolley’s sly grin made Y/N gasp teasingly, leaning back to eye the other woman as though she’d just instigated a scandal. “Dolley Payne! I am ashamed at your lack of self restraint.”

“You wouldn’t be if you were on the receiving end of it.”

“You offering?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink.

“I mean, my roommate just moved out, so there’s no one at my apartment right now,” Dolley said mildly, giving a slight shrug. “Any chance you wanna spend the night?”

When she winked, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh outright. “Mm, I’ll definitely consider it,” she said, sarcasm heavy in her voice, and despite her dry tone, Dolley once again burst into a fit of giggles, her hysterics more contagious than Y/N would’ve liked to admit. Perhaps her roommate couldn’t hold her alcohol quite as well as as she thought.

Dolley leaned back toward the bar for a refill, and Y/N’s eyes began to wander in her absence. The room was packed with leather furniture, tufted couches and armchairs; it had a fireplace along one wall and a pool table in the corner at which two men seemed to be escalating quite a heated argument. The sight amused her, if only in the least, but she turned away with her small smile, taking another sip of her drink. That was when her gaze landed on the man directly to her left where she sat facing Dolley, his arm draped over the back of the couch and his stare fixed on her friend. Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, don’t look now, but the hottie at your three o'clock is totally checking you out.”

“'Three o'clock’?” Dolley repeated, brow furrowed, “Y/N, it’s past ten, what are you–”

“ _Military directions_ , Doll; just–” Y/N cut herself off with a scowl, glancing back to her side. “Don’t be too obvious about it. He’s directly to your right.” When Dolley’s head whipped around toward the man, subtlety be damned, Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. However, the other woman’s eyes widening gave her pause. “What, d'you know him, or something?”

With the way Dolley was biting her lip and fiddling with the rim of her glass, it was strikingly obvious that there was more to the story. “…Sort of,” she replied vaguely.

“Which means what, exactly?” Despite Y/N’s newly uncovered intrigue, Dolley’s eyes didn’t leave the man in question, and her best friend scowled. “Spill. Now.”

“That’s James,” she finally answered, wearing a wide grin. “He’s a friend.”

“I need _details_ here!” Y/N demanded. “Based on how he’s looking at you, I’m not sure I buy that he’s just 'a friend.’”

“He’s a PhD candidate. We’ve crossed paths in the school of economics a couple of times, and he’s a big sweetheart. But you didn’t hear that last part from me.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at her words, and Dolley continued, “And I might’ve slept with him, like, once or twice.”

“How is that the _last_ thing you think to mention? You’ve been holding out on me,” Y/N said, swatting at Dolley’s shoulder, but she just shrugged. “So are you gonna go over there and talk to him, or what?”

“Oh, no, I can’t leave you alone here!” she protested. “This is our night to celebrate your _finally_ moving here. I wouldn’t abandon you like that.”

“I can take care of myself; I promise.” Y/N gave her a pointed look before nodding back toward James. “Besides, you’re stuck with me all the time now. Don’t pass up something like _him_ just to spare your conscience. C'mon.”

Dolley hesitated, stealing another glance to her right, and when James met her gaze, giving her a small smile, Y/N could see her face light up. “Are you sure?” Despite Dolley’s hesitance, her eyes were shining, and Y/N nodded.

“Go. Have fun. Live a little.”

“I’ll be back for you in a bit, dear.” Dolley squeezed Y/N’s shoulder affectionately as she stood up, sending her a grateful look before starting off to her right.

Y/N turned back to the bar with a chuckle, finishing off her drink and asking the bartender for a glass of water, musing about what her first few days at the university would look like, her gaze absent as she looked up at the shelves of alcohol across from her. She was still sad to have left her semester of travel behind, but she’d long since decided to embrace the change this year had already begun to bring. She was living at the nation’s capitol, paying next to no tuition at a prestigious university. New beginnings were bittersweet, but she was excited for her path forward.

Her thoughts had begun to gravitate toward the semester of actual classes she had before her (because apparently, to get a degree, she had to “get good grades”) when she was pulled back to the room before her, the bartender setting a martini down in front of her. It looked tempting, but– “I’m sorry; I think there’s been a mistake?”

Her words seemed to catch the bartender by surprise as he stopped himself in his tracks, returned to where she was sitting. “What seems to be the problem, ma'am?”

“No problem at all, but I think this drink is someone else’s,” she said, pushing it back toward him with a polite smile. “I’ve just been having water.”

“Actually, it was sent by the gentleman at the end of the bar.” Her eyebrows shot up, and when she glanced to her right, she caught the gaze of a well-dressed man whose eyes were already trained on her, wearing a barely-there smile, an expectant eyebrow raised. She hadn’t realized she was staring, gaze wandering from the v-neck of his sweater to where it was pulled taut around his dark forearms, until the bartender cleared his throat, and she turned back to him with a start. The man several seats over was now grinning outright, in her opinion overly self-pleased, and she deigned not to acknowledge how the way he was looking at her had her heart pounding against her ribcage. “Take it or leave it, but it’s no mistake.”

She bit her lip, not daring to turn to her right once more; she could already feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, creeping up her neck. “Would you please send it back to him?” She asked in a small voice. “Tell him that if he wants to talk to me, he can come here and do it himself.”

To her relief, he obliged her with a surprised laugh, continuing off with the glass she’d been offered, and she thanked him quietly as he went on his way. It couldn’t have been a minute later when a low voice from behind Y/N made her jump.

“Y'know, when I buy women drinks, I don’t usually get 'em returned to me with stipulations.”

The corners of her lips twitched upward, but she didn’t look at him until he came around to stand beside her. “Then maybe you’ve been buying drinks for the wrong women.”

“It’s like that, huh?” His soft huff made her smile. “Maybe I bought a drink for the wrong woman just now.”

Y/N turned to him with her brow furrowed, already opening her mouth to rebuke him, but when she saw his teasing smile, she stopped herself. “You still decided to come over, didn’t you?”

“So, what, you’re just too irresistible?” He rose an eyebrow, and she shrugged.

“You said it, not me.”

He laughed, drumming his fingers on the back of the chair beside her, and she pursed her lips as she eyed the man. He had a full head of dark, thick curls, and his tight sweater bulged at his biceps, drawing her distracted gaze away from his winning smile. “Mind if I join you, then?”

She was leaning onto the bar, resting on her forearms as she considered him, lips pursed. “I suppose some company couldn’t hurt.”

“Glad to hear it.” Y/N was struggling to pull her eyes away from the wide grin he wore, but as he took a seat beside her, he didn’t seem to mind. “So what’s a woman like you doin’ drinkin’ alone on a Sunday?”

“Good question,” she started, lips pursed as she considered him – because really, what _was_ she doing? Playing ghost wingwoman for Dolley? Reminiscing on her shitty flings in Europe? Trying to sober up from the sugar content of her sickeningly sweet cocktails so she didn’t throw up from something other than alcohol? “Maybe I’ve just been waiting for _someone_ to finally approach me.”

Her mischievous smile made his eyebrows shoot up, surprised but more than pleasantly so. “’S that right?” The noncommittal tilt of her head gave him little to go on. “Sorry to say it, but if you’re lookin’ to meet people, this isn’t the first place I’d recommend, sweetheart.”

“It seems to be working for me so far,” she pointed out, raising a smug eyebrow, and the man laughed, eyes shining. “Then again, I don’t even know your name. Have we _really_ even formally met?”

“You make an excellent point,” he conceded, and when Y/N took another sip of her water, his eyes flickering down to her mouth was the furthest thing from subtle. “But what’s the intrigue of a mysterious stranger approachin’ you at a bar if I just _tell_ you my name, hm?”

“What, are you going to make me _beg_ for it?” The undertone of her own words certainly wasn’t lost on Y/N, not as her voice dropped to a murmur, the corners of her lips curling up into a mischievous smile. He didn’t seem thrown off, either; his eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, a fire blazing behind them that Y/N could’ve sworn hadn’t been there even a minute before.

“Don’t you start givin’ me ideas,” he said quietly, and she could feel her breath catch, her stomach turn, but she paid it little mind, “unless that’s what you’re _really_ lookin’ for.”

“I don’t think I know what you’re implying.” The innocent smile Y/N had plastered on made him raise an amused brow, despite that her voice sounded as though she’d been winded. “But it does seem awfully mean to make such a fuss over something so simple. I have to say, I almost feel like I’m being exploited.”

“Hey, I came all the way over here. ’S your turn to put in some leg work now.” When he bumped his elbow into hers, she hadn’t expected to laugh at the brief, teasing action, but whether it was hormones or her excessive consumption of glucose, something about that night had her feeling just a bit lighter than usual.

“Alright, alright,” she finally caved, dropping the coy facade. “What can I _ever_ do to make up for the wasted martini and two meters of walking you had to overcome?”

“You can tell me where you’re from, for starters.” Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow at the question, folding her arms, but he only shrugged. “What? Haven’t seen you around here before; I know I’d remember if I had.” She rolled her eyes when he winked but didn’t cut him off. “So what’s your deal, then? In town visitin’ a friend? Here for some kinda election event?”

“I just moved here, actually. I’m new to the neighborhood.”

“So you’re livin’ around here?”

“So you’re _already_ trying to stalk me?”

He laughed at her accusatory stare, her lips pursed. “Nah, ’m just from this part of town,” he said, but hesitated a moment to continue as he eyed her curiously. “Can you blame me for takin’ interest when I hear a pretty face like yours is gonna be out 'n’ about here more often?”

“Excuse _you_ , I’m much more than just a pretty face,” Y/N said defensively, but the man just shrugged.

“Well, since you’re refusin’ to tell me anythin’ about yourself, how am I supposed to know that?” The look in his eyes was challenging, and she let out an amused huff, trying to bury how endeared she was in a facade of exasperation.

“Alright, smart guy; you win this one,” she said with a scowl, but her lips quirked as she continued, “I just settled into an apartment building a block or two over. _Now_ have I earned your name?”

“I’m Thomas,” he supplied.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated quietly, the look in his eyes softening. “So, where’d you move here from?”

“A little bit of everywhere,” she responded vaguely, taking another sip of her drink, and Thomas cocked a brow.

“Care to explain?”

“I’ve been abroad,” Y/N laughed, enjoying his look of bemusement. “I’m from Ohio, originally, but I went to Chicago for school, and I’ve spent the past year or so in Europe.”

He nodded, pausing a moment at her words. “Really? _Ohio_?”

“I spent a year halfway across the world, and _that’s_ what you choose to focus on?” Her words were almost indignant, and the disbelief in her narrowed eyes made him laugh.

“’M sorry, I just…” He trailed off, his eyes wandering down her figure, and she gave him a skeptical glance, turned back to her drink. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a Midwesterner.”

“There’s a reason I ran for the hills the first chance I got.” She snorted, taking a sip of her seltzer water as she shook her head. Her gaze was absent, drifting across the wall behind the bar, but before Thomas could question it, she’d turned back to him, eyebrows raised. “So what about you? What’s your origin story? Texas? Alabama?”

“Virginia, born and raised,” he answered easily, clear pride in it laced through his voice, but he glanced at her suspiciously a moment later. “I really strike you as bein’ from _Alabama_?”

“Listen, the southern accent was all I had to go off of. I did my best,” Y/N defended, trying and failing to keep a laugh out of her tone, and he scoffed.

“Sure you did, sweetheart.” The sarcastic lilt to his voice came alongside a broad grin, and had his voice not been so playful, she may have written him off right there and then. As it was, though, she couldn’t even bring herself to scowl at the words. Instead, she held his warm stare, trying not to concentrate on the fact that she could feel his body heat permeating his sweater just inches to her left, trying to reign in her spiking pulse. Being beyond hyper-aware of just how close Thomas was, though, it shouldn’t have startled Y/N when he knocked his knee into hers. When her eyes refocused, having been lost in thought, she could see in his eyes the pleasure he was taking in how skittish he’d made her.

“Anyway, now that I’m not some cryptic intruder,” he started – he didn’t seem to notice that Y/N’s focus was still fixed on subduing the heat rising in her neck, “can I buy you that drink?”

* * *

 **THUS BEGAN THE** rest of their night. It was nearly eleven when Dolley texted her from the other side of the room, a frantic plea for forgiveness if she went home with James. (She _swore_ , she hadn’t meant to leave Y/N alone on their first night out together – besides, Y/N seemed to have found a nightcap of her own. Forget a tall drink of water; the stranger in burgundy was a daiquiri and a half – Dolley’s words, not mine.)

And really, Y/N didn’t mind. She was more than willing to walk home alone if it meant a night of just a _little_ adventure. She ended up staying at the bar with Thomas until the owner nearly had to throw them out – and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Neither of them had had anything to drink in over an hour, so she supposed that as the clock neared midnight, they really weren’t making much of a dent in the profit margin.

But it wasn’t _her_ fault, really. No one told her when she’d left her apartment that evening that, for once in her life, the person sending her a drink wouldn’t be an incel with a god complex. Quite frankly, not only was _that_ bullet dodged, but Thomas quickly proved to be more than a few inches above the low, low bar she’d set.

The night grew colder outside the windows, but the pair of them were preoccupied, busy inching closer, her hand falling upon his arm when she laughed, his legs brushing against hers as he acted as though he hadn’t even noticed. They could both tell her demure front was just for show; her skin burned under his touch, layers of fabric be damned, and his gaze was electric. She’d long since thrown caution to the wind, anyway. Where the night was headed was clear only minutes after he’d sat down beside her; the air between them was charged. Sure, she’d only met him a couple hours prior, but any sort of a spark could certainly make a fire to last at least one night – and last it did.

However, she didn’t expect to have to be the one to push it that far. Brazenness seemed to be Thomas’s mode of operation, so she was almost surprised when their being herded out onto the street below didn’t immediately end in his hands on her skin, her body pulled flush against him. When they reached the musty alleyway, she was struggling to believe the firebrand of a man who’d bought her a drink hours before had suddenly become so mild in the night air.

But he’d bought _her_ a drink. The ball was in her court.

“You cold, sweetheart?” Y/N glanced back over her shoulder, shivering, to see Thomas watching her with concern in his eyes. To be candid, she was fine – winter in D.C. had nothing on the frigid bite of the air in Finland – but she couldn’t pretend how worried he looked wasn’t part of what was tempting her to deal with the devil, heavy shadows clinging to his brow.

“I’m alright,” she replied quietly, offering him a reassuring smile, but his creased brow didn’t part.

“You sure? That coat doesn’t look all that heavy.”

“Really. I’m okay,” she said with a light laugh, though she didn’t think how she’d begun sniffling as her nose started to run was helping her case all that much. “I have a short walk home; it’s no biggie.”

That, however, made his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. “You’re walkin’ home? Y/N, I dunno how safe that is.”

“It’s _hardly_ snowing.”

“I mean for you to be alone in the city in the middle of the night,” he said, pausing as he reached where she stood just before the opening of the alleyway. “Can I call you an Uber?”

She turned her head to find him right by her side, perhaps an inch between the pair, his warm breath tickling her neck as he looked down at her. Her smile was hesitant. “I’m not letting you burn up some fossil fuels for a two block car ride. I can take care of myself.”

“How 'bout if I walk you home?” he offered, and she let out a light sigh. “C'mon, leavin’ you here alone in the middle of the night doesn’t sit right with me. If somethin’ happened…”

Though he trailed off, the implication in his words was obvious, and Y/N raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying that, because a stranger _might_ follow me home, I should let a different stranger follow me home to prevent it?”

When she put it like that, Thomas couldn’t help his quiet laugh at the irony of the situation. “Hey, I thought we’d agreed I’m not a stranger anymore,” he protested, but Y/N looked him up and down skeptically.

“What, you paid for my drinks and called me pretty, and suddenly we’re besties?”

“Now, we both know 'besties’ wasn’t exactly what I was goin’ for,” he said matter-of-factly, his smile sharp but playful, and despite how tilted the whole situation felt, she couldn’t hold back her chuckle. She rolled her eyes, stuffed her hands in her pockets as she turned back to the well-lit sidewalk before them, the January snow crunching under her boots, but when she met his eyes, Thomas’s expression had softened. He rose an inquiring eyebrow, and finally, she sighed.

“Yeah, you walking me home would be nice.”

A grin split his light demeanor. “Alright. Lead the way, sweetheart.”

“Follow me.”

They took a right out of the alleyway, and as traffic continued to roar by beside them, speeding through the night, as the low buzz of the antiquated streetlights permeated the air, they fell into a comfortable silence, never falling out of step with one another. Snow was flecked across both their coats, and shadows were cast across their features, cycling back with each passing lamp.

Y/N hadn’t been exaggerating when she deemed it a short walk home; it couldn’t have been more than five minutes before they found themselves nearing the front steps of her building, and she looked up at him.

“Hey, thanks for tonight,” she said, voice timid, and he turned to her with a wide smile.

“’S been my pleasure,” he replied. “Sorry for keepin’ you out so long; your roommate must be startin’ to wonder.”

When Y/N laughed lightly, Thomas raised an eyebrow, apparently not following whatever she’d taken away from his words. “I have a feeling she’s a little too preoccupied to be worrying about me right now,” she said dryly. She’d been back in town for not 48 hours, and Dolley was already going out on her own – as supportive as Y/N was, Dolley had a habit of getting too attached too quickly. She was praying James wouldn’t end up another regrettable hookup.

However, Thomas couldn’t exactly hear her thoughts, something Y/N hadn’t considered before tightly grabbing ahold of the rope to her mental tangent – it was his fault, really. _She_ couldn’t be blamed for his lack of talent in mind-reading. But as he continued to watch her expectantly, as she pulled herself back to the present, she finally said, “She’s spending the night with someone else tonight. Make of that what you will.”

He shook his head in amusement. “Good for her.”

“I’m sure her host thinks so.”

A moment passed in quiet under the frigid night sky, Y/N hesitant to act but Thomas hesitant to leave. He was the one to break it.

“It was good to meet you, Y/N,” he said softly, and she raised her eyebrows. Her window of opportunity was dwindling. “Hope I’ll see you–”

“D'you want to come upstairs?” She hadn’t meant to cut him off, but the words were spilling from her tongue before she could lose her nerve. Her heart was pounding; she wasn’t fond of having to make the risky move, and the tentativeness in his raised eyebrows wasn’t helping.

“Seriously?” _Oh, God_. Was it really such a ridiculous idea that he was struggling to believe she was asking? “I…” Thomas let out a heavy sigh when he trailed off before pursing his lips, tongue in cheek and looking everywhere but at her. “’S temptin’, but… I can’t do that to you.”

Y/N only stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“You’ve been drinkin’ all night.” His tone left little room for negotiation, but she was on the edge of taking offense. “I know you don’t seem drunk, but if your judgment isn’t all the way there, it’s not happenin’. G'night, sweetheart.”

She was still standing in stunned silence when he turned to walk back the way he came, but when he started retreating in her field of vision, she called after him, “Hang on.” To her relief, he looked back at her quizzically, footsteps stalling on the snow-coated sidewalk, and she took a step toward him. “I’ve been drinking seltzer water and fruit juice all night, Thomas,” she said, and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “So if you’re not interested, you don’t need to make excuses, but I’m asking you while perfectly sober.”

Her stomach seemed to be trying to turn itself inside-out as she waited anxiously for him to respond; the calculated way he looked her over only exacerbated the feeling. “Have you had _anything_ to drink tonight?”

“Next to nothing.” The pause between them was heavy, both their minds racing but far from in consensus. “Your move, Thomas.”

Not three seconds passed before he was striding toward her decisively, and she inhaled sharply when his arm snaked around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek, thumb sweeping over the expanse of skin. She was flush against his chest, too surprised to even react, her hands resting at his upper chest, and her eyes widened when she felt his cheekbone brush against the crown of her head. He tilted his head down to look at her, his lips hardly a hair away from the top of her ear. She could feel his breath down her neck, setting her nerves alight. “Can I kiss you?”

Her answer was immediate. “ _Please_.”

And before she had time to think, his lips were on hers; he was tangling a hand into her hair. He wasted no time in starting to walk her back toward her building, steadying her with a firm grip on her waist as she stumbled backward.

She yelped when her heel hit the bottom step up to her building’s door, and she broke the kiss, then clinging to his shoulders in an effort not to fall, struggling to hold her weight on her legs as she lifted one foot onto the first step. Both their chests were heaving, and Thomas wore a wry grin.

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that since I sent you that martini,” he murmured, dipping down to kiss along her jawline, and Y/N let out a breathy chuckle.

“So you had to wait, what, three hours?” she retorted, tone dry. “Oh, how you’ve suffered.”

“Had to wait three hours _too long_ ,” he corrected her, and before she could jab back at him, his mouth again found hers. She moaned against him when he bit down lightly on her bottom lip, responding in kind by rolling her tongue teasingly against his. It was too much and yet still, not enough. His hands were all over her; she couldn’t focus on how his body felt pressed into hers as the sensation quickly overwhelmed her, and when his grip on her hip tightened, she gasped into his mouth.

“Thomas, wait, I–” She was cut off before she could get the thought out. “Thom– Mmh–!” He kissed her ardently, reveling in her response to his touch every bit as much as she was reveling in the feeling of it. Regardless, she pulled back, looking him in the eye, and held him off with a hand on his chest. “Let’s go in. I’d rather be somewhere a lot warmer and a little more…” –she traced a finger down the lapel of his designer coat with a sly smile, finally using it to pull him closer– “…private.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He split from her, tugging her alongside him and up the stairs by her hand, and her eyes widened at his frantic movements. She didn’t even flinch at first, stunned by how abrupt the action had been, but when he glanced back over his shoulder at her, her fingers already linked between his, she drew in a shuddering breath.

“Let’s go.”

From there, their night was a blur of heavy jeans and chunky sweaters being scattered across Y/N’s bedroom, their coats discarded and long forgotten not three feet past her apartment door. Whatever gods were above seemed to have smiled on her; she and Dolley both striking it lucky on the same night felt too perfect for it to be coincidental, especially as Y/N’s bedroom door slammed loudly behind them, her body pinned against its interior moments later.

Every impatient touch was ablaze, brimming with fireworks and crave as her eager hands found their way up his shirt, his curls bouncing when he pulled it over his head.

It was all reckless, every second of it, but as Y/N saw it, what was the worst that could happen? The occasional uncomfortable run-in with Thomas if they passed on the street? That was beyond worth her evening of adrenaline. She gasped when he pushed her back onto her mattress, climbing on immediately after her.

“Thomas,” she moaned, threading her fingers into his curls as his lips worked their way down her neck.

“What is it, sweetheart? Hm?”

She squealed when he nipped at her sensitive skin, nails digging into his upper back, but her tense muscles relaxed as he began sucking a hickey into the same spot a moment later. “I need you. _Please_.”

She could feel his smile against her skin, the vibrations of his light chuckle. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” He pulled back as the pads of his fingers dug into her hips, and she inhaled sharply. His eyes were shining, predatory and smug. “How could I say no?”

* * *

 **COME THE NEXT** morning – or, really, the next afternoon – Y/N was grateful to have escaped without a hangover, completely absent a headache, the light of day not even a bother as it glared past her curtains. However, the minute she tried to sit up, she realized that she certainly had a backache, and she wasn’t entirely convinced her legs would be willing to work when she tried to stand.

Realization struck her a moment later; she winced as she sat bolt upright, ignoring the ache in her shoulders when she lunged for her phone. _Oh, shit._

“Thomas,” she hissed, shoving his snoring body through her comforter. “Thomas, _wake up_.”

He sniffed as he shifted in her bed, trying to speak through his heavy yawn. “What’s goin’ on?”

“What’s going on is that it’s almost _two o'clock_.” Her scowl was deep-set as she shoved the covers off of herself, paying him little mind as she began to root through her drawers for something to wear. “And you need to go. I have somewhere to be.”

It hadn’t occurred to her to be self-conscious as she paced through her room, but when she turned back to see Thomas’s lazy stare following her still-naked body, she could feel her cheeks flare. “ _Get dressed_.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, sleep still heavy in his voice as he reached for his phone where he’d discarded it on his long-abandoned jeans. She didn’t see it, busy pulling on underwear and yanking on a hoodie over her the heavily-marked skin of her chest. “ _Fuck_. I’m gonna be late.”

She rolled her eyes when his own panic was finally what kicked him into gear, as he began shoving his legs back into his pants in a frenzy. “ _Jesus_ , do I need to get home,” he muttered to himself, unsteadily typing something into his phone with one hand as he struggled to buckle his belt with the other. “Sorry for crashin’, I–”

“It’s fine; it was late as all hell,” Y/N cut him off, too preoccupied to concern herself with what’d happened the night prior. She was clinging to the desperate hope that her laptop might not be dead as she dug through he drawers for its charger. “When you find all your stuff, you can just go.”

“Alright. I…” He glanced to her hesitantly, pausing in his quest to put himself back together before he could flee with his dignity and whatever plans he had for that afternoon still intact. She glanced at him inquisitively in his silence. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She offered him a small smile before he returned to trying to dig up his sweater, completely oblivious to where he could’ve possibly tossed it. “Let’s hope so.”

Those were all the words exchanged before she ducked into her bathroom, began running the shower, and wiped her smeared mascara from where it’d been running down her cheeks. Thomas left with no more pomp or circumstance.

She hardly had time to fix her appearance after she showered, doing the bare minimum before she rushed back to check on the charge her laptop had left. 74% would be enough to make it through her first lecture, right? She didn’t waste a second on dwelling.

Her first class was, to her dismay, halfway across campus from her apartment. She hardly slipped into the lecture hall in time, the clock striking 2:59 PM as she took a seat toward the back, quietly greeting the person in the seat beside her as they glanced up from their phone. Maybe her rolling up less than sixty seconds before the lecture began wasn’t exactly the best first impression for her, coming in as a 2nd semester junior at a new college, but she’d managed to beat Professor Jefferson, so it appeared she was safe.

It was 3:03 when he showed up; Y/N had just finished convincing the fan on her laptop to stop shrieking, had found a pen nestled into the deepest depths of her bag. She was scrolling absentmindedly through Twitter when the back doors of the lecture hall were thrown open one final time. She didn’t look up at first, but his voice made her eyes widen.

“Afternoon, everybody. Hope you’ve all been doin’ well through the long winter.” His voice was upbeat as he padded down the carpeted steps toward the desk at the front of the room.

Y/N was fairly sure she was going to be sick, and unfortunately, she had no hangover to chalk it up to. Disbelief permeated her every shaky breath, the feeling trounced only by dread. Her throat had gone dry.

“For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Professor Jefferson. I started in the political science department this last fall,” he said as he reached the floor, loud voice projected through every corner of the hall, tone joking when he added, “And for anyone who’s eventually gonna ask, I promise ’m well aware of how young I am.”

When he turned around, Y/N’s worst fears were realized – though, she was certainly surprised at how put-together he looked, having left her apartment just one short hour earlier.

“I’ve spent the past few years workin’ in government, but I’m glad to be back in classrooms, even if I’m on the other side of 'em.” He set his briefcase down on his desk, looking the room over as he withdrew his papers, opened his laptop. Y/N was sinking progressively further and further down in her chair. “I trust you’ve all done the assigned readin’?”

He was met with a scattered chorus of yeses and halfhearted noises of affirmation, and he chuckled. “Well, ’m glad to hear you enjoyed 'em so much.”

She wasn’t sure whether his words being met with soft laughs dispersed throughout the room was because of the sarcasm sitting heavy in his words, or instead because of how contagious his bright grin was.

“Alright, alright, the enthusiasm’ll get there. Feel free to pull up the syllabus on whatever you’ve got with you, but it’ll be projected up here as we go through it.” The class sounded slightly more awake by then, and while it surely wasn’t everyone, Y/N felt confident enough that a decent fraction of the noise was her classmates murmuring with disbelief about how _this_ was their professor, no doubt interspersed with jokes about suddenly taking an _intimate_ interest in political philosophy, capped off with a wink.

But she was no one to judge. Despite being unsure whether her heart was trying to beat its way through her ribcage or if it’d altogether stopped, when Thomas leaned against the front of the desk, arms folded and ankles crossed, she couldn’t bring herself to regret the events of the past sixteen hours – were she given a chance to turn back time, it was a mistake she’d readily make again.

“I’ll take any questions as we go on through it,” he continued, but that time, as he scanned the crowd, Y/N’s luck seemed to have run out. However, though she’d been given the luxury of a gradual realisation, the inevitable punch in the gut of recognition hit him all at once. His eyes locked onto hers, immediately going wide, his expression dropping to one of alarm, and she held his gaze warily.

His silence was a fraction of a second too long, long enough to raise questions, before his self-awareness kicked in, and he picked his jaw up off the floor. The smile he plastered on was riddled with unease. “Hope everything in the course description was clear. I have no doubt this’ll be an… excitin’ semester.”

He played off his shock easily, falling back into his upbeat persona, but as he went on, Y/N felt lucky she’d already read the syllabus — she didn’t process a single word out of his mouth. The class was three hours long, and only five minutes into the first day, she’d apparently already slept with her professor.

If this was the semester she had ahead of her, then, well… 'exciting’ was certainly a word for it.


	2. Office Hours

**"DOLLEY, HOLY SHIT;** please tell me you’re already home.” Y/N’s words were breathless as she hurried across the quad, muttering under her breath into her phone. She’d darted out of her lecture hall the moment they’d been dismissed, having no desire to stick around for the confrontation she knew was inevitable.

“ _I’m just getting out of class, dear_ ,” Dolley responded, but when she continued, her words were teasing. “ _What sort of trouble did you manage to get yourself into while I was gone?_ ”

“I cannot begin to explain.” Y/N let out a huff, glancing over her shoulder and ducking her head as she whispered, “but it’s _not good_.”

“ _Oh, good lord, Y/N; I was joking_.” She could hear the genuine worry begin to creep into Dolley’s voice and couldn’t help but wince.

“Yeah, I wish I was, too.” She chalked the subsequent rush of static through the line up to Dolley’s sigh. “Where are you right now? Can I meet you somewhere?”

“ _Want to go to dinner_?”

“Too broke for that.”

“ _Packaged ramen from the drugstore on the east side of campus?_ ”

“Now you’re speaking my language.” Y/N grinned, and she could only picture Dolley rolling her eyes from wherever she was. “I’ll be there in a few.”

“ _You’d better. I can’t wait much longer to hear what sort of nonsense you’ve been up to_.”

* * *

 **"YOU SLEPT WITH** a _professor_?”

“ _Shh_ , Doll; not so loud,” Y/N hissed, pulling her back into the soda aisle and frantically checking for any prurient eavesdroppers. Her voice was low when she added, “It was the guy at the bar last night. I had _no idea_ he was a professor here.”

Dolley let out a dry, disbelieving laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is… a mess.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So, what’s the plan going to be?”

When Dolley folded her arms, raising an amused eyebrow (a little _too_ amused, in Y/N’s humble opinion), but Y/N furrowed her brow. “What d'you mean, ‘what’s the plan?’”

“What are you going to do the next time you run into him?” Dolley asked. There was a pause; Y/N hadn’t thought that far. “You don’t really think you can make it through the semester ignoring this, do you?”

“I… Maybe? I don’t know!” Y/N let out a frustrated huff. “That’s what I need you to help me figure out. What else are you here for?”

“Oh, you make an excellent point,” Dolley sighed. “All _I_ do is pay half the rent and help you get laid at bars downtown.”

Y/N scowled. “You helped me get laid by _a professor._ Just help me.”

“Mmh, I don’t think I heard a 'please’ in there.”

“ _Please,_ Dolley, my white knight to whom I owe my life,” she pleaded, clutching her roommates arm and sighing wistfully. Dolley’s lips were pressed into a line, but that didn’t stop her smile from showing through. “I would be nothing without you; just _please,_ do me this one final favor.”

“Alright, alright,” she conceded with a huff, shaking free from Y/N’s grip. “Drama queen.”

Y/N shrugged shamelessly. “I bring excitement into your life. Don’t be ungrateful.”

“Whatever you say, dear.” The defeat in her words made Y/N grin. “So back to your _excitement_ , then.”

“I’m so lost,” Y/N groaned, finally emerging from the soda aisle with shoulders slumped in defeat. “If the sex hadn’t been so good, I’d probably just pretend it never happened.”

Dolley creased her brow. “Was it really that good?”

Y/N turned to her with a serious demeanor, a hand on her shoulder as she looked her in the eye. “Dolley. I am covered in hickeys from my neck to my hips. That man damn near threw my back out. I won’t bullshit you; there’s no way I’m gonna be able to sit comfortably for—”

“ _Okay_ , alright! A 'yes’ would’ve sufficed,” Dolley cut her off, pushing past her to the shelf of instant noodles. Y/N looked disproportionately self-satisfied when she followed. “That’s about enough details for one evening.”

“You asked!”

“But you can’t spend the entire semester ignoring him, Y/N,” Dolley continued, ignoring her words. “That class is notoriously difficult — the only people I know who _didn’t_ frequent his office hours were the ones who got 'C’s.”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples as her roommate pushed cup after cup of beef ramen into her basket. “So then shouldn’t I just put this whole thing behind me? I can’t really start asking him to help me analyze Kant if I open the conversation with, 'hey, good to see you again, you’re almost as good at teaching as you are in bed.’”

Dolley laughed at her dry tone. “I don’t mean that, of course.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“If you never agree to put this all behind you, I think it’s going to be on both of your minds for the rest of the semester,” she said matter-of-factly, hesitating when the freezer at the side of the room caught her gaze. “Should we pick up pizza rolls, too?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course we should,” Y/N scoffed, brushing past her toward the Totino’s section. “But if he and I both just ignore it, wouldn’t that be an easier way to put it behind us?”

“Oh, grab a bag of the cheeseburger flavor, would you?” Dolley leaned in to look over Y/N’s shoulder, ignoring her words altogether, and she glanced back with a raised eyebrow.

“Can you focus for five seconds?” She dropped three bags of pizza rolls — _pepperoni_ flavor — into her basket with a huff. “Anyway, the cheeseburger flavor is disgusting. Get some taste.”

“Don’t discount the nostalgia of it!”

“ _Dolley_.” Y/N fixed her with a pointed look, and she sighed.

“We both know ignoring it is a poor idea, even if it is the easier option.” Dolley didn’t waste a second in pushing right past Y/N when she stood, grabbing a bag of the cheeseburger pizza rolls (an oxymoron in itself, as Y/N would’ve told her) before the freezer door could fall shut. “Just talk to him after class one day. Don’t make it take more than five minutes.”

“I don’t even know where I’d start with that. I’ve dealt with awkward fallout from one-night stands before, but never with a _professor_.” Her footsteps stalled within the last yard of the frozen section. “I’ve just gotta ignore it and focus on the coursework, Dolley. Wanna get some Ben and Jerry’s?”

“Are you trying to distract me with a pint of chocolate fudge brownie?” Dolley asked incredulously, before adding, “Because it’s working. Let’s get two.”

She grinned. “Excellent.”

Y/N figured that was the end of it, that two pints of ice cream and an incredibly vague game plan would be enough to satiate her friend for the time being, but after they checked out, trying to figure out how many meals they could extend one pack of ramen to (because, really, if you just add more water, doesn’t it make the servings bigger?), Dolley felt the need to return to it as they walked through the sliding glass exit doors, her words holding an air of finality.

“If you really want to _insist_ on not just communicating with the poor man, Y/N, then fine.” Y/N raised a quizzical eyebrow, not yet following where Dolley had abruptly turned the trajectory of their conversation. “But after his lecture on Wednesday, when you realize that leaving the subject untouched just makes it more unbearable—” (“’ _When’?”_ Y/N muttered dubiously.) “—then I need you to agree to go talk to your professor.”

Dolley didn’t wait for her response, squinting at the nutrition facts on the ramen labels as her focus drifted elsewhere (sure, it _said_ two servings, but she was fairly sure that only the bourgeoisie couldn’t have stretched it to three), but Y/N let out a surrendering sigh.

“Wednesday’s going to be _just fine_ ,” she said, realizing but not caring that Dolley was no longer listening. “But if it isn’t, I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

 **WEDNESDAY WAS NOT** 'just fine.’

Y/N spent the entire class on edge, trying futilely not to let her thoughts drift back to the other night in the bar, then on the street in front of her building, then in the elevator, in her living room, even in _the kitchen—_ but no, she was getting off track. Little did she know, Thomas was having precisely the same issue.

She jotted down his words almost robotically, the meaning of them going into one ear and out the other, more focused on the sound of his voice than on what he was actually saying.

Only once did she manage to focus for long enough to actually process a thought, but when he was fielding questions about the material, Thomas conveniently managed to miss her having raised her hand from where she was seated. She supposed she’d just positioned herself too far back and thought no more of it.

Despite how 'not fine’ that day had been, she dismissed it as a fluke, showing up the next Monday with her head on straight, her readings prepared and annotated, and took a seat several rows further forward. Her motivation may have been misplaced, leaning a bit too far toward wanting to impress her professor and not far enough toward a desire to understand the material, but she was familiar enough with the content to feel comfortable giving her input on the questions he posed to the class throughout the lecture.

Again, her efforts bore no fruit. Her notes were better that day, so that was certainly something to count as a plus, but she left feeling put-out by the fact that she hadn’t even had a chance to participate. Usually, she wouldn’t have been so perturbed by this — sitting through a Socratic seminar playing tetris on her laptop was no unfamiliar experience — but this class accounted for six of the twelve credit hours she still needed for her chosen major. She didn’t suppose that it’d be a good look to have the class dragging down her GPA to be the same one she was supposedly most passionate about; generally speaking, that wasn’t what graduate schools were looking for.

Besides, she liked the subject, too. Surely that had to count for _something_?

And that was how she kept pushing off the inevitable conversation with Thomas — sorry, _Professor Jefferson_ — and coming up with increasingly creative excuses as to why her efforts were being so plainly ignored, not only that following Wednesday, too, but also the Monday and Wednesday after. She’d made it through three weeks of classes before she could finally work up the nerve to confront him.

Unfortunately, that task proved to be no easier than her previous one.

Thom— _her professor_ was always the last one into the lecture hall and the first one out, leaving no opportunities for chatter, or in her case, a supposedly inevitable clash she’d already begun arming herself for. She’d nearly caught him in the halls at various times, but he always seemed to have somewhere he urgently needed to be. The same doctrine followed in his office hours; apparently, another student had scheduled a meeting with him three minutes after every single time she arrived, without fail, so could she please just come back another time? Surely, another time would be better for both of them.

That time never came.

It was near the end of the fourth week that she was entirely fed up. They’d moved from Kant to Machiavelli, and so far, _The Prince_ had her ready to tear her hair out. It didn’t help that they’d all just finished the book, their first paper of the year on it due the next Monday.

She was far past lying to herself about her motives being purely academic while she continued to privately just want his attention — no, by then, she was hopped up on forty ounces of sugary coffee and just a touch of RedBull, and she hardly had a thesis for her paper. She’d read the same passages time and time again — she likely could’ve recited them word-for-word by the time she demanded feedback — and any shallow, vain desires for recognition were the furthest thing from her mind. She needed a professor, and she was _pissed_ that Thomas didn’t seem to have any interest in acting like one.

It was late Thursday evening when she marched across the green from the library to the building that housed his office in a fury. Yes, it was the last week of January; yes, the entire city was still coated in snow, but no, she could _not_ bring herself to care about the very real possibility of frostbite as she trudged through the snow in sweatpants, slippers, and a tank top. Practicality wasn’t her priority. Finishing her paper was.

Thomas’s office hours were from 7 to 10 PM every evening, a schedule he stuck to religiously. It was 9:24 when Y/N began tracking snow through the bottom floor of his building, and 9:31 when she finally managed to locate and reach his actual office.

It was reluctant when she finally knocked, struggling to resist the urge to simply bust in and rip him a new one, but to her relief, it was simply met with a 'come in.’ _That_ was when she threw the door open in a fit of annoyance.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, eyes narrowed and tone accusatory before he could so much as react to her presence.

“Y/N, I—” His eyes were wide; he seemed to be at a loss for words as his eyes drifted down to her sweatpants and Hello Kitty slippers. He couldn’t have convinced her it wasn’t a dignified look even if he’d tried. “What are you doin’ here?”

“We need to talk.” She dropped her bag into one of the chairs in front of his desk, though she chose not to take a seat, instead glaring down at him, arms folded.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and though his head was down, his shadow of a grimace told her everything she needed to know: he’d been dreading this conversation far more than she had. “Look, right now really isn’t a great time. I’ve got—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Thomas.”

“Professor Jefferson,” he corrected her, the words hissed through gritted teeth, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“My bad. Don’t bullshit me, _Professor Jefferson._ ” Y/N scowled as she took another step towards him. “Your office hours don’t end until ten. There’s no way you have time for a meeting between now and then if you haven’t already started one.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Alright. Alright, fine. And I know what you’re gonna say, but—”

“Do you really?” she challenged him, head cocked to one side. “Because the fact that you haven’t given me one chance to speak to you in almost a _month_ tells me pretty clearly that you don’t. Generally, you find out what people have to say by _listening_ to them.”

“We can’t have this conversation here. You’ve gotta come find me some other time.” The urgency in his voice only served to infuriate her further. What right did he have to be dictating this when he’d tried to stop the conversation altogether?

“Oh, believe me, I’ve tried,” Y/N huffed. “I’m done accommodating. If you wanted to talk about this some other time, I would’ve been happy to, but we’re _well_ past that.”

He held her burning gaze warily for another moment, but she didn’t let up. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. Say your part. I’m listenin’.”

“You’ve been completely freezing me out. You haven’t been answering my questions in classes; you haven’t been letting me contribute to discussions; you, most recently, haven’t let me talk to you for more than _five seconds_ , hence why I’m here.” She launched into an irate monologue without any further encouragement, and to his credit, Thomas at least had the decency to look guilty. “You’ve been turning me away at your office hours; for _fuck’s sake_ , Thomas, you haven’t even answered any of my emails!”

“I know, I know,” he said, and though she could see the exhaustion written across his face, she didn’t let him continue. “But you’ve gotta understand—”

“I’m not done,” she cut him off, and it was then that he raised an affronted brow. “Anyway, I get why you’re keeping your distance. Really, I do. And honestly? I can’t really blame you for it.”

“Well, great, so—”

“But with _that said_ ,” —she gave Thomas an expectant look as she continued to speak over him, challenging him to try and interrupt— “You’ve been doing more than keeping your distance. You’ve been outright ignoring me, and that’s where I’m drawing a line in the sand. Refusing to engage with me doesn’t help either of us.”

She let out a heavy breath when she finally reached the end of her rant, and though he was certainly taken aback, Thomas looked unimpressed.

“May I speak now?” he asked mockingly, and she scowled. “Or are you just gonna keep cuttin’ me off?”

“Depends how much bullshit comes out of your mouth.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure.” He put his pen back into the cup on the edge of the desk before drawing himself up to the fullest height he could reach in a rolling chair. With how he was looking at her, with how cross his tone was, Y/N may have backed down in another context, but quite frankly, she was beyond having anything to lose. “I understand that you’re hurt, Y/N, and for that, ’m honestly sorry, but—”

“I’m not _hurt_ , I’m ticked!”

“ _Y/N_.” That time, his hard voice, his barely-contained anger, did make her shrink away, just a bit. “You’ve gotta realize that what happened is in the past. It was a mistake. I didn’t know you were a student here — you even told me you went to school in _Chicago_.”

“I did, for two years.”

“Doesn’t matter. Moral of the story is that you’ve gotta leave that in the past. I’m your professor now, and that’s a boundary that can’t be crossed. We both need to stop dwellin’ on it.” His saying 'we’ rather than 'you’ certainly didn’t go unnoticed, but Y/N deemed it not worth addressing.

“Great. It’s behind us. Can you stop ignoring me now?”

“Come on, Y/N—”

“Seriously? You’re gonna argue with _that_?” She threw her hands up in a huff, beyond exasperated and crossing the line to indignance. “You wanna remind me that you’re my professor? Then stop acting like I don’t exist. It’s that simple, Thomas.”

“It’s _Professor Jefferson_. And I’m not tryin’ to ignore you,” he defended. “But don’t you see the position this puts me in? My job’s at stake here. This can _never_ happen again!”

“And who said I _wanted_ it to?” she bit back immediately, and for just a moment, Thomas was rendered silent.

“If that’s not what you’re lookin’ for, then what _are_ you here for?” His voice was quiet, his gaze searching, and Y/N sighed.

“Seriously? I haven’t made myself clear enough?” She raised an eyebrow, but his blank look told her all she needed to know. The tension in her shoulders dropped; her combative stance went neutral when she reached into her bag, pulling it from the chair in front of his desk. “You’re the one who keeps emphasizing that you’re my professor — and that’s what I need you to be right now.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly lost as she withdrew Machiavelli’s _The Prince_ from her bag, beaten up and slathered in colored tabs around the edges. She added in a small voice, “I’ve been struggling with the reading. I did it all, but there are just a couple passages that… I need help with.”

Thomas — no, _Professor Jefferson_ ( _god_ , was she ever going to struggle with getting that down) — looked stunned, plain and simple. Y/N had expected all of his assumptions for why she’d shown up there. Two weeks earlier, they may have also been accurate ones, but ultimately, she was still just a student. He’d really had to have had a big head to think he’d take priority over that for any extended period of time.

His eyes were wide. He continued to look toward her, but his gaze was blank, slowly drifting to his desk, until finally, he sighed. “Well, shit. I, uh… I’m really sorry, Y/N. Really.” If the growing guilt behind his shock hadn’t been clear enough in his demeanor, it was woven tightly into his voice. His stare flickered back up to her, and despite her lingering irritation, the apology in it softened her. “I got so caught up in my own problems that I didn’t even consider. I didn’t mean to assume that you… y'know.”

“Came here to try and get dicked down?” Y/N supplied, voice dry as she watched him expectantly. He cracked a sheepish smile.

“Somethin’ like that.”

“As though it’d be worth the effort,” she snorted. “There are, like, thirty frats on campus, and I have a paper due Monday — in case you’d forgotten. If I wanted to get laid, I’d do it _much_ more efficiently.”

“Mm, but would it be as good?” At the clear ego in Thomas’s playful stare, Y/N’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

“ _Now_ who’s crossing boundaries?”

Despite the skepticism in her voice, Thomas laughed. “’M just kiddin’. Promise.”

“Hilarious.” Her small, persistent smile undermined her sarcasm, and his gaze was soft.

“Alright, alright, come take a seat. Show me which pages you’re strugglin’ with.”

“Yeah, so it’s less full pages and passages than it is key phrases I just can’t seem to connect to the rest of the work.” Y/N lowered herself into the chair that wasn’t already holding her bag as she flipped open her book to her third pink tab, turning it to show him. “Like, here. Chapter 19.”

“Mhm.”

“I understand what the whole page is getting at, but look at this…”

They sank easily into the text, despite being focused more on one another’s voices than on the writing itself. Ten PM had long since come and gone, but as the night stretched on, the pair only continued to pass Y/N’s book back and forth, bouncing from passage to passage, idea to idea as though no time had passed at all. Neither of them bothered to check any sort of a clock until Y/N let out a loud, drawn-out yawn. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“You gettin’ tired?” Y/N gave a halfhearted shrug as he finally checked his watch, and his eyes widened. “Shit, it’s past eleven. We should get you outta here.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” Her voice was weary as she lifted herself out of her seat, tucked her book back into her bag. “I’ve got everything I need for my paper, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it.” Thomas reached for his coat as she made her way to the door, but she paused when he asked, “You’re not thinkin’ of walkin’ home, are you?”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “What if I am?”

Thomas furrowed his brow. “Tell me that’s a joke. That’s gotta be a joke.” Y/N shrugged, and Thomas groaned lightly. “In that outfit, you freezin’ and gettin’ abducted are equally likely, you know that?”

“Aw, thanks for letting me know! Now I feel so much safer,” she said, plastering on a mocking smile.

“Lemme call you an Uber,” he offered, and Y/N quirked a brow.

“Are you that much of a one-trick pony?”

“If makin’ sure women get home safe is my only trick, I think it’s a pretty good one to have,” he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N had to laugh.

“I can appreciate that. An Uber would be great.” Y/N pulled her bag up her shoulder as she returned to his door. “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Mhm. Your driver’s named Amy, and she’s drivin’ a blue Camry, by the way,” Thomas informed her, and Y/N smiled. “G'night, Y/N.”

“Night, _professor_.”

* * *

 **FROM THEN ON,** Y/N began frequenting Thomas’s office hours, only hesitantly at first. While her motives were genuine, all of them being centered around getting into grad school, she didn’t want to become overbearing, especially with the one night, the sixteen stolen hours that still hung over their heads. She stopped by twice the following week, neither time staying long as other students began to trickle in, peeking nervously around the corner toward his office, knocking so quietly at first that neither Thomas not Y/N realized someone was there. She didn’t need him any more than her classmates did, so she yielded her time gracefully.

Moreover, she knew that only very little of the time he offered to students wasn’t already occupied, and while the reason for that was certainly clear to her, she wasn’t sure whether it’d gone over his head. It wasn’t until the fourth time she went to meet with him that she found he was every bit as aware as everyone else.

“Hey, Thom—” Y/N cut herself off with a wince. “ _Professor Jefferson_ , you around?” she called down the hall to his office, nose still buried in the email from the anthropology department that she’d pulled up on her phone (apparently they were having a bake sale on the east green; Y/N didn’t bother to read further and learn why once she saw they’d have caramel brownies). She only glanced up when she didn’t receive an answer, instead hearing chatter drift down the hall, and her footsteps slowed as she neared his doorway. Her eyebrows shot up.

Y/N recognized the woman seated — well, hardly still seated, at that point — with her back to her as Lucy Hart, who sat front and center during every single one of their lectures, who was now all but draping herself across Thomas’s desk, leaned onto her forearms and with a pen between her teeth.

Though she seemed to find whatever Y/N had just missed to be hilarious, Thomas’s amusement was forced, uneasy as he eased his hand away from where hers had fallen to cover it, holding the book open by one of its ends.

“Alright, Miss Hart, we’ll see.” Whatever the question was, Thomas wasn’t about to give her a straight answer, but Lucy seemed to take that as a challenge. Her cleavage finally spilled back into the neckline of her dress when she sat back in her seat, but she traced one finger up Thomas’s forearm.

“I guess we will,” she replied. She hadn’t seemed to have caught on to how wildly uncomfortable she was making him — Y/N could only assume Lucy had decided she’d left him 'flustered.’ She reached for his copy of Hobbes’s _Leviathan_ , her perfectly manicured fingers brushing over his as she did so. “Now, where were we?”

_Ahem._

From the angle they were seated at, neither Thomas nor Lucy had noticed Y/N standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised — when she cleared her throat, though, they both jumped. Their reactions to her presence couldn’t have been more disparate. The relief written deep in Thomas’s tiny smile was obvious, but Lucy was looking her over with a scowl.

“Hey,” Y/N finally said, taking a step forward. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“'Course not.” It was Professor Jefferson who answered, tone formal and body language neutral, but how quickly he’d answered, overtly cutting off Lucy, told Y/N she wasn’t misreading the situation. “What can I do for you, Y/N?”

“Yeah, Y/N,” Lucy furthered, eyeing her dubiously. “Why are _you_ here?”

Y/N’s gaze flickered between the pair of them, the tension in Thomas’s shoulders subtle but clear as he inched his arm further from Lucy’s. “Last I checked, Professor Jefferson, we had a meeting scheduled for right about now.”

Her smile was genuine despite how Thomas knit his dark brow; she hadn’t yet moved past finding the ordeal wildly entertaining. “Do we?”

“I thought so,” she added with a shrug, and when her pointed gaze fell to Lucy, who still looked irate sitting in the small tufted chair across from him, Thomas sighed, and Y/N felt confident it’d been a sigh of relief. He seemed to have realized the escape rope she’d thrown into his lionness’s den. “Unless I got the time wrong? It could’ve been tomorrow evening, I—”

“No, no you’re in the right,” he cut her off a little too adamantly, and though she’d already begun to dig through her phone for the nonexistent calendar event, she looked up with her eyebrows raised. “’S my bad. I took the timing down wrong.”

Y/N had to bite down her self-satisfied smile. “Are you sure? Because really, we can reschedule; I’m also available—”

“No. Now’s just fine,” he assured her, and the indignant look Lucy shot him had the beginnings of a smile creeping past Y/N’s innocent mask. “Made a promise, and it’d be only right to keep it, wouldn’t it?”

“It _is_ your responsibility to model integrity, professor.”

“Then I guess I’ve gotta make sure I don’t give anybody the wrong idea.”

Y/N wasn’t sure whether the words, 'the wrong idea’ were pointed at her or at Lucy, or whether they were even pointed at all, with her simply reading too far into a nonexistent subtext to take them at face value. She didn’t dwell much longer.

“Well, thanks for stoppin’ by, Miss Hart—” Vindication flashed in Y/N’s eyes when she noticed his electing not to use Lucy’s first name. “—I hope all this discussion’s deepened your understandin’ of Hobbes’s view on human nature.”

“Oh, I’ve learned _quite a bit_ about human nature,” Lucy said as she stood, and Thomas’s discomfort hadn’t faded. Y/N was struggling to comprehend what about her words possibly justified her tone being so suggestive. “I hope I can come back another night for you to teach me a little _more_ of it, Thom— oh! I mean, Professor Jefferson.”

She glanced bashfully at Y/N with her final few words, her sheepish front fooling no one. Y/N wasn’t sure to what end, but this was a clear ploy for her jealousy — she’d been around the block once or twice. Y/N genuinely struggled to contain her amusement as Lucy shot him a wink before turning to leave, exaggerating the movements of her hips. The door fell shut behind her.

It wasn’t until Lucy’s footsteps were out of earshot that Thomas let out a heavy sigh, sinking down in his chair, and Y/N let out the laugh she’d spent the past ten minutes swallowing.

“So, Lucy Hart, huh? _That’s_ who you’ve been spending all your alleged 'office hours’ with?” she started, and Thomas’s glare was weak.

“C'mon, Y/N.”

“Is _that_ why your door’s locked half the times I show up here? Today wasn’t very subtle, you know.”

“Y/N.” His voice was hard when he gave her a pointed look, but with how tired he looked, she didn’t push it further, just smiled.

“Relax; I’m just kidding.” She shrugged off her jacket. “I know that if you were to sleep with a student, it wouldn’t be Lucy. Don’t worry.”

He raised his eyebrows at her audacity, her smug grin, but he couldn’t prevent the amusement that showed through to his expression. “Really? You’re gonna go there?”

“Go where?” When she knit her brow, plastered on a confused frown, Thomas had to swallow his laugh. “Now, I’m just not sure what you’re implying, professor. _Do_ you plan on sleeping with Lucy?

"Hilarious, Y/N.” His rolling his eyes left her undeterred. “In all seriousness, though, I think she really believes she _is_ bein’ subtle.”

“Unfortunately, I’m well aware,” Y/N sighed. “I’ve seen her at a few too many parties to have any illusions about what a painfully tactless flirt she is.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

“Has it been like this all semester?” she asked. Sure, Y/N had seen how shameless Lucy was during lectures, leaving no stone unturned to draw attention to herself, but this seemed a new level of egregious. Yet, Thomas nodded.

“Once a week, every week. Least, when it isn’t more than that.”

“Sometimes it’s _more?_ ” Y/N let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, and Thomas nodded his solemn confirmation. “Jesus. So _this_ is why you look pissed every time she participates in class. I figured you just hated the sound of her voice as much as I do.”

“Believe me; I’ve been startin’ to.”

“That’s so harsh!”

“Aw, c'mon, and you wouldn’t?”

Y/N shrugged, pursed her lips, but her eyes glinted with hubris. “Well,” she said, “It’d depend on how hot the student was. I mean, in my opinion, if Lucy was _me_ , it just might be a different story.”

Thomas couldn’t bring himself to look annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Alright,” he said, shaking his head at her words. “You think you’re fuckable. I get it.”

“Glad we agree.” Y/N’s lips quirked up into a smug smile, but Thomas raised his eyebrows.

“Hang on, now. That’s not quite what I—”

“But if she’s really bothering you,” Y/N continued, altogether disregarding his protests, and Thomas sighed. “You know you could just, like, talk to Lucy about it, right? You’re the one with the power, here.”

She couldn’t put her finger on exactly why he winced at the latter sentence.

“Guess so, I just… I dunno. ’S really no big deal; I’m just gettin’ fed up with all that.” He gave a halfhearted shrug that made her raise an eyebrow. “But don’t worry 'bout that. Why’re _you_ here, if not for the meetin’ we’ve supposedly got scheduled for tonight?”

His tone was light, playful with the question, but Y/N was still stuck on what he’d started with. “Hold on; you can’t just deflect that easily.”

“Deflect from what?” He furrowed his brow, but Y/N just huffed, walking toward the near side of his desk.

“From whatever you’re getting 'fed up with all of,’” she said, and when she eyed him skeptically, his fatigued sigh told her she wasn’t imagining things. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, sure, join me.” Thomas beckoning her toward his empty chairs was almost absentminded. “But really, it’s nothin’.”

“No offense, but I don’t know if I believe you.” As she sank down into one of his guest’s seats, a conflicted look flickered across his gaze, building further on the concern in her words. “What’s up? C'mon; talk to me.”

He hesitated. “’M serious, Y/N; it’s not—”

“ _Thomas_.”

He raised an eyebrow, but it took her a moment to notice her own error. “Excuse me?”

“Professor Jefferson, I mean. Of course.” Her smile was sheepish, but it just made him chuckle.

“Alright, alright. ’S nothin’ serious, anyway, but ’m just gettin’ sick of not bein’ taken seriously.”

Y/N’s words were hesitant as she raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? People take you seriously.”

“Mm, but do they?” He sighed as he sat back in his chair. “I’m the youngest professor on campus; half my office hours are taken up by undergrads hittin’ on me. It’s hard to feel like I’m gettin’ a lot of respect when you don’t even treat me like a professor.”

“Hey, come on, I respect you,” she defended, and he shook his head.

“I don’t mean _you,_ specifically, Y/N. Just… your whole class. I’m already hardly old enough to be teachin’ at a university, but it also kinda sucks to see how many people pretend to care about learnin’ just to get my attention,” he said, and his voice was soft. His quiet sigh made Y/N frown, especially as his absent gaze wandered through his own office.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and he glanced back over to her. “Keep in mind, though, _you_ made the first move on _me_. Not the other way around.”

Despite her having been entirely serious, her words made Thomas laugh — a full-bodied laugh, too, one that couldn’t help but make her smile in return. “Thanks for lettin’ me know,” he said, and though she rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone, she was glad to see him lightening up. “Sorry to say it, sweetheart, but not everything’s about you.”

Neither noticed his casual term of endearment. “What a shame,” Y/N sighed.

“Mm, I’m sure. I guess I just…” When he trailed off, Y/N raised a brow, and the concerned look in her eyes was what prompted him to continue. “I know I’m smart, 'n all, but it never feels great to feel discounted. Especially bein’ new to the faculty.”

“I hear that,” Y/N said, her tone light but gaze solemn. “For what it’s worth, I do come to your office for help because I know you can and want to provide it, not because I have some ulterior motive.”

“Glad to hear it.” Though his tone almost suggested he may have been being facetious, Y/N could tell that he wasn’t making fun. “But on that note, thanks for givin’ me an out with the Lucy fiasco. What’d you need, comin’ here?”

Y/N’s smile was small, all but apologetic as she unzipped her bag after pulling it into her lap. “Right. So, I know this isn’t your job, and all…”

When she trailed off, Thomas eyed her suspiciously, especially as her lips only seemed to stretch further into a grin. “What’s this about?”

“Is there any chance you’d be willing to read over my paper for my constitutional law seminar?” At the hopeful look she wore as she withdrew her printed essay from her bag, he had to laugh.

“Really? You’re not even here for somethin’ about my class?”

“Yes or no, professor?” She raised a brow, waving the packet back and forth expectantly.

“And why’d you decide to come see if _I’d_ look through it? What makes you think I’m gonna?”

“You read over my French paper last week!” she pointed out, and Thomas sighed.

“Yeah, 'cause I speak French.”

“You speak English, too. _And_ you worked in government.” Y/N shrugged, putting the paper down on his desk regardless. “So, please? I’d ask my roommate, but she’s studying business, and you must know how that goes.”

“You trashin’ on business majors?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“If I was, would I be wrong?”

Her deadpan stare made him laugh. “Can’t argue with that. Give it here.”

He held his hand out for the essay, and she gave it to him with a wide grin. “You’re the best.”

“What else is new?” he asked, and despite how dry his tone was, his eyes were teasing. “You wanna go through it with me now, or should I get it back to you some other time?”

“Any chance we can go over it now?” she asked. “It might sort of be due in two days.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you tellin’ me I’m some kinda last resort?”

“Of course not!” she defended, but she hesitated before continuing, “Just an eleventh-hour supplementary resource who’s going to help me get a diploma.”

“I’m sure,” he said, and the skeptical look he gave made the corners of her lips twitch. “You owe me, y'know that?”

“Really. I should start paying you, one of these days.”

“To be fair, you do pay my salary.”

“Mm, maybe some students do, but I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.”

Thomas furrowed his brow, confusion permeating every aspect of his expression as he looked back at her. “What, you 'n Elizabeth Warren linked up in a personal campaign for free college?”

“No, but the president of financial aid and I did.” She shrugged. “Honestly, they saved my ass. Sorry I’m not raising your salary, or anything, but I hardly pay to go here.”

When he slowly nodded, she could see the small, subtle smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll try not to hold it against you. ’M glad you ended up here anyway.”

Y/N’s grin was exaggerated, a fact she did nothing to conceal. “Aww, professor, I knew you secretly liked having me here.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile mirrored hers. “I _meant_ that I’m glad that money isn’t holdin’ you back from gettin’ a good education.”

“I’m sure you did.”

Thomas cocked a brow. “D'you want me to read your paper or not?”

At his words, Y/N had to bite back her cocky grin, and she nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Then get off your high horse 'n _listen_.” Despite his words, amusement sat heavy in the way he was skeptically eyeing Y/N.

“Of course, professor.”

* * *

 **"IT'S BEEN SHOCKINGLY** chill.”

Y/N was sprawled out on the carpet of her living room, a styrofoam cup of ramen in one hand and chopsticks in the other, while Dolley sat curled up at the end of the couch flipping through Netflix on their TV.

“No lingering sexual tension?” Dolley challenged, glancing down to where Y/N was slurping her noodles (she’d asserted that ramen on the couch was too high of a stain risk). Y/N shook her head, and Dolley raised an eyebrow. “Really? No secret desire to end up bent over his desk?”

“Okay, listen, what I want and what I act on are two very different things.” She pointed her chopsticks at Dolley accusatorily. “I can have it both ways.”

“So you’re still looking for another night of fun?” Dolley raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N only grinned.

“Are you offering?”

“I _could_ be convinced, dear.” The wink Dolley sent her made Y/N laugh, broth sloshing down the side of her cup that she didn’t hesitate to lick off of the back of her hand.

“Mhm, because my sex appeal is through the roof, I’m sure.”

“Alright, I’ll confess. I _am_ only joking, after all,” Dolley sighed, a wistful look in her eyes as she scrolled through the Netflix TV dramas category. “But only because things with James are going better than I expected.”

Y/N’s eyes widened; she spun in her spot on the floor. “Dolley, oh my God, spill! You’ve been holding out on me.”

“There’s not much for me to spill, really.” She shrugged, and the smile she wore was coy. “He and I have just been getting on well. Nothing more to it.”

“No. Uh-uh.” Y/N shook her head, setting her near-empty instant ramen onto their coffee table. “You’re gonna give me more than that. You have to. Clearly something’s been happening.”

Dolley bit her lip. “So, would we rather watch _Stranger Things_ or _The Good Place_?”

“Don’t you dare change the subject!”

“Alright, alright,” she finally sighed, and her gaze was soft when she finally met Y/N’s eyes. “So, we’ve been seeing each other more often. Getting coffee, grabbing lunch between classes. He’s even had me read over different drafts of his thesis.”

“Aww, he’s using you as an editor? How romantic!”

“Make fun all you want, but he trusts me with it. Isn’t that worth something?”

“Of course it is, Doll.” Y/N smiled, unable to tease Dolley further when she had such a sappy look in her eyes. “But if you’ve been dating, why am I _just_ finding out?”

She didn’t meet Y/N’s gaze, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves. “We haven’t been going on dates, really.”

“Oh yeah? This is how you talk about hanging out with everyone else you aren’t dating?” The challenge in Y/N’s tone made her scoff, roll her eyes, but they both knew she had a point.

“It’s nothing _official_.”

“But do you want it to be?” Y/N quirked a brow. Dolley’s smile was faint.

“Maybe a little,” she said quietly, and Y/N’s grin broadened.

“That’s adorable. I’m thrilled for you,” she said, but there was a heavy pause before she hesitantly added, “but be careful with him.”

Dolley furrowed her brow, finally turning toward where Y/N sat. “What d'you mean?”

“You have a habit of quickly getting attached to men who turn out to be terrible for you. Remember Henry?”

“Knox or Clay?”

“Either. You’re making my point.” Y/N gave her a knowing look, but Dolley didn’t seem overly offended. “You’re just too quick to give people the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone deserves it.”

“But that’s what you love about me, dear.”

“Don’t you turn my undying love and affection for you against me!” Y/N protested, and though she rolled her eyes, Dolley appeared to be entertained. “I adore you for what a sweetheart you are, but it’s also what men take advantage of.”

“Yes, I know; you’ve given me this talk before,” Dolley sighed. “But really, I think this time might be different. I really like James.”

Y/N pursed her lips. “It’d better be. Otherwise he’s gonna have hell to pay.”

“I’m not too worried.”

“I am.”

“Would you feel better if I gave _you_ a chance to screen him?” Y/N raised an interested eyebrow at Dolley’s words. “Because I invited him to come over Wednesday night for dinner. If you’d like, it’ll be a prime time for you to interrogate him.”

She sighed. “I dunno, Doll. I don’t want to third wheel.”

“You live here. You won’t be third-wheeling,” Dolley pointed out. “And you wouldn’t have to stay! You could just pop in, say hello, and either leave or just go wait him out in your room.”

A small smile grew across Y/N’s lips at her words. “And you’ll seriously let me interrogate him?”

“Have at it.”

“I’m in.”

* * *

 **DOLLEY 🥺💋 SENT** : **JAMES** is coming over in five minutes, so get home whenever

 **Dolley 🥺💋 sent:** unless of course you’ve decided to grant him your tacit approval

 **Y/N sent:** be home soon 😪

 **Dolley 🥺💋 sent** : see u 😘

“Y/N?”

It was Wednesday evening, around 6 PM. Y/N’s political philosophy seminar had just been let out, but she’d really spent most of her focus over the past three hours on figuring out exactly how to determine whether or not James was a piece of shit. Apparently he was bringing takeout to her and Dolley’s apartment for all three of them, which she saw to be a point in his favor.

However, as her classmates filed out of the lecture hall, Y/N stood idly, taking hesitant steps forward out of her row as she tried to multitask, neither eager to stop texting Dolley or to trip all the way down the steps to the front of the room. It was Professor Jefferson who knocked her out of the reverie that’d been induced by the promise of James delivering what she imagined to be the best food she’d had in weeks.

She looked up with a brow raised, tucking her phone back into her pocket. “Hey, professor.”

“You have a second to talk?”

“Oh, um…” Despite her deep-seated motivation to get home before dinner was cold, she supposed it could wait just a little longer. She nodded. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

She pulled her bag onto her shoulder as she stepped out onto the hall’s staircase, maybe three rows up from where Thomas stood at the bottom floor.

He leaned nonchalantly against the first row of desks. “So, the TA I’ve had since first semester’s leavin’ in a week or two. He’s goin’ abroad to South Korea for the fourth quarter, 'n he’s decided to resign from bein’ my assistant at the end of this week, so that he can make sure he’s got everything in order for the next three months.”

She frowned. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear it.” She folded her arms, paused before adding, “So what, you want me to break the news to the class that we aren’t getting those papers on the Enlightenment back anytime soon?”

At her quirked brow, her playful smile, Thomas had to give a light laugh. “Mm, I’m hopin’ it won’t come to that.”

“You should probably get to grading instead of keeping me from dinner, then.”

“Oh, ’m sorry; how dare I, really?” He responded, a hand over his heart, and she had to bite back her entertained smile at the irony in his indignance.

“Honestly. I can’t imagine why I put up with it.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said dryly. “But seriously, ’m not just tellin’ you that for the sake of small talk. What I’m sayin’ is that I have an openin’ to find a new TA.”

“I see,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “And where, pray tell, do I come into all this?”

It wasn’t that his train of thought was hard to follow, nor was his implication, but until he said it outright, Y/N had no desire to make any sort of an assumption.

He smiled. “You have any interest in becomin’ a TA?”

“Seriously?” She furrowed her brow. “I mean, I appreciate it, but why?”

“First off, your work’s consistently at the top of this class,” he said matter-of-factly. They both knew she was well aware of this, after the hours in his office she’d spent grilling him on the historical context of every one of Voltaire’s assertions and the implications of every early revolution. “You’re a good writer, 'n you’re more than capable of reviewin’ other students’ work. You’ve also already taken most of the other classes I teach, so you’re familiar with all the material.”

She nodded slowly, folding her arms, and though her expression would’ve conveyed that she was deep in thought, she couldn’t suppress her growing smile. “I see. So it doesn’t have anything to do with how attractive or charming I am?”

When she raised a playful eyebrow, he laughed outright. “Whenever your charm can start gradin’ thirty ten-page papers a day, I’ll start takin’ it into account.”

“Don’t underestimate it.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep it in mind.” He shook his head, and his lingering smile made the corners of her lips twitch. “’M serious, though. If you’ve already got enough on your plate, and you don’t wanna take on another commitment, that’s cool 'n all, and I can always ask someone else. But would you want the position?”

She pursed her lips, eyed him hesitantly. “Will I need to apply for it?”

“Nah,” he said. “By the university’s policy, you’ve gotta send me your resume and transcript, but if you wanna be my TA, you’ve got it. So?”

When she bit her lip, his eyes flickered down to her mouth so briefly that she almost didn’t notice it. “I don’t know, Thom—” He raised a brow. “ _Professor._ Is there any chance I can think on it and get back to you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, 'course. I can give you 'til the end of the week, if that’s enough time?”

“That’d be great.” As she held his gaze, she couldn’t help but ponder exactly what she was being asked. She was sure his motives were pure; she couldn’t imagine for the life of her Thomas giving her a job with the intent of breaking down professional boundaries so he could sleep with her, but that was where her mind was going regardless. “I’ll stop by and let you know on Friday.”

“I’m countin’ on it.” He wore a wide grin that shouldn’t have and usually wouldn’t have put her on edge. Her mind had fallen down the rabbit hole of fixating on just how much more time she’d be spending with him as his TA — he saw enough of her during his office hours, but she was of two minds with that. On one hand, what would a few more hours change? However, on the other, all she was hearing was that he didn’t mind spending a few more hours with her. “I’ll see you then?”

When he raised an eyebrow, she finally realized she’d spaced out for a solid minute, and she fixed on a smile, though it was tense. “See you then.”

She left without another word.

James proved to be a nice guy when Dolley had him over; he brought burgers and milkshakes for all three of them. However, Y/N knew she’d only find herself on Dolley’s bad side however many hours later. As much as he was talking, Y/N didn’t retain a single word he shared about himself, despite having promised she’d use the evening to formulate her opinion on him. So much for protecting Dolley.

Instead, Professor Thomas Jefferson occupied every one of her thoughts.


	3. Sloppy Drunk

“Wait, so you’re going to do it, right?”

It wasn’t until Friday morning that Y/N told Dolley about Thomas’s offer, both of them seated at a corner table in the coffee shop in the middle of campus. Y/N shrugged, taking a sip of her latte.

“I dunno, Doll. It seems like it could be… risky.”

“How so?” Dolley set down her cup, squinting at her skeptically, and she pursed her lips.

“Listen, he’s a good professor, and he and I have a good relationship or whatever, but I’m not sure what a great idea it is for me to be with him too much more often.”

“Is your self-control already waning?” Dolley gave Y/N a look of disbelief, and she answered it with a sigh.

“I’m not gonna make a move on him; I swear,” she said, expression dead serious, but when she continued, her voice dropped just a few decibels. “But… if I had the chance to sleep with him again, I wouldn’t hesitate to take it. And I really can’t have that happen.”

“How the _hell_ do you think becoming his TA is going to turn into sex?” Dolley asked incredulously. “You know I adore you, but I do _not_ adore when you’re self-sabotaging.”

“I’m not self-sabotaging,” Y/N insisted, and though she’d hoped the statement would sound reasonable, she just came off as defensive. “I’m being careful. I know myself, and I know that early January was some of the best sex I’ve had in a _while_.”

“Sounds to me like you’re pent up.” Dolley raised her eyebrows, giving Y/N a pointed look, at which she scowled. “Just fuck someone from Alpha Phi Omega and then take the TA position.”

“You don’t get it,” Y/N groaned. “Half the time, his office hours are just like some mildly awkward run-in with a one-night stand. It’s casual enough that there’s no real issue, but there’s always just a little bit of… discomfort.”

“That’s called sexual tension, dear.” The look in her eyes was knowing. “And it doesn’t go away when you turn down positions that will look good on grad school applications.”

A beat passed in silence, and finally, Y/N sighed.

“You’re right. That’s kinda my point, though.” She pursed her lips; the nod she gave looked resigned, both disappointed and on edge. “It also doesn’t go away when I _do_ take those positions. And I don’t wanna fuck up and make everything even more awkward.”

“Y/N. I believe in you.” Dolley took one of Y/N’s hands in hers, picking it up from where she’d rested it on the table as she slumped over in her fit of angst. “You’re strong. You can work with a man without fucking him.”

Y/N scowled. “Well, when you put it like that, you’re making it sound like I’m some kind of sex fiend.”

“That’s what you’re acting like!”

“Fuck _off_ , Dolley; no, I’m _not_.” She folded her arms, pushing her mug and saucer to the side of the table. “My most recent one-night stand turned out to be my professor, and now he’s asking me to be his TA. I’m allowed to be a little hesitant.”

Dolley pursed her lips. “You might have a point.”

“Thanks, I’m thrilled to hear it,” Y/N responded dryly. “But… I’ll figure it out. I doubt it could really turn out all that badly. I can handle myself.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dolley did not sound enthusiastic. “But you really need to…”

Dolley trailed off with wide eyes, her gaze apparently having caught something across the café. Y/N eyed her skeptically, raised an eyebrow. “… Dolley? You still with me?”

She waited a moment, watching to see if her attention would recover, but when it didn’t she waved a hand in front of her, trying to break her stare, but it was apparently locked elsewhere. “Hello? Anybody home?” Another moment of quiet, and eventually, Y/N snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Dolley!”

“Hm?” Her eyes snapped back to Y/N’s almost too quickly, and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“What are you looking at?”

“Oh… um, nothing. I just spaced out.” The smile that had begun to split her expression said otherwise, though.

“Oh, really?” Y/N’s eyes narrowed, shifting in her chair to glance back over her shoulder. “What’s back there? Did you see someone? Are you— Oh!” She stopped speaking abruptly, her eyes widening, and when she whipped back around to face Dolley, her grin was sheepish. “That’s James, isn’t it?”

“Shh, not so loud!” Dolley said, shoving her arm. The giddiness written across her face didn’t help her case as she attempted to scold Y/N. “Yes, that’s him. Yellow sweater, grey coat.”

“He’s cute,” Y/N commented, taking another less-than-sneaky glance over her shoulder at him, before she turned back to Dolley with an expectant look. “So? Are you going to go talk to him?”

“Right now?” At the question, Dolley’s smile dropped. It seemed as if she’d been blindsided, as though upon seeing the man she’d been sleeping with for weeks on end, Y/N was going to encourage her to ignore him.

“Yes, right now!” Y/N was just watching her with disbelief. “What’s the issue?”

“I… I don’t know,” Dolley said softly. Her tiny, dopey grin had been restored, but it was now tainted with anxiety. “I really like him, but…”

“… But?”

Her sigh was heavy. “I’m worried he and I don’t have much in common. He’s, like, the strong and silent type, y'know?”

Y/N pursed her lips, biting back a wince. “That’s so clichéd, Doll.”

“I know, I know,” she groaned, plastering on a pleading pout. “Just bear with me. Please.”

There was a skip, and Y/N was eyeing Dolley warily. “You know I’m always here to listen. But if you get too self-destructive, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I won’t!” she defended, and a grin was stretching across her face at the whole situation, making Y/N’s contempt soften to skepticism. “I just don’t know what I want, okay? And worse yet, I don’t know what _he_ wants.”

“I promise, no one’s expecting you to turn into a mind reader. Least of all James.”

“I know,” she sighed, drawing out the words in the midst of her apparent (or perhaps dramatized) emotional exhaustion. “But he’s quiet. He doesn’t say much, and you know that always freaks me out a little.”

“So I hear.”

“But… we get along well. He’s nice to be around. He puts me at ease.”

“Aww, Dolley, are you falling for him?” That time, it was Y/N’s turn to pull on a contrived pout, squeezing Dolley’s forearm lightly, and though she rolled her eyes, Dolley still looked as though she was the least bit absent, her head still coming back down from the clouds. “That’s sweet.”

“I know, I know,” she said, biting her lip in a weak effort to hide her smile. “But… you know me. I’m _not_ the quiet type. Quite the opposite.”

“That might even be an understatement,” Y/N muttered, breaking her gaze briefly, and Dolley scoffed.

“Oh, shut up! I already know that, and I don’t wanna hear it.” She gave Y/N a pointed look. “But he and I are so different, and I’m worried that I’ll end up being too much for him. I don’t wanna be overbearing.”

Her final sentence was quiet, and Y/N could hear her insecurities weakening her conviction. “You’re not overbearing, or overwhelming, or ‘too much,’” she assured her, and Dolley covered her hand with her own, squeezing it lightly, affection in her eyes. “And if he’s right for you, I’m sure he agrees. You’re excellent; don’t try to change for him. It won’t make you happy.”

“You’re right, as usual,” she sighed, “And… I do want to talk to him, something you know very well. But who knows if he wants to talk to me?”

“Well, he keeps glancing over in our direction,” Y/N said matter-of-factly, and Dolley’s eyes went wide.

“He is? Wait, where is he?” Her gaze began to dart back and forth, and Y/N couldn’t help her light laugh.

“He just got back from picking up his drink, and now he’s at the table a few behind you,” she said, dropping her voice before adding, “And I’ve already made awkward eye contact with him too many times, so now if you don’t talk to him, I’m gonna look like a total creep.”

“Y/N!” she scolded her, but the laugh in her voice betrayed her indignance. She glanced back over her shoulder, and Y/N saw James nod to her when he caught her gaze, the corners of his lips quirking up into a shadow of a smile. She offered him a shy wave.

Quite frankly, Y/N had never seen her like that before, not in all her years of knowing her. Dolley’s baseline tended to be everyone else’s two-ecstasy-pills-deep, and usually, other people in the mix just fueled the fire of her perpetual enthusiasm — Y/N had never seen a man make her timid, though, of all things.

She couldn’t help but think it was kind of cute.

Dolley held his stare another moment, before he finally decided to stand, beginning to make his way over to where they were sitting, and Dolley spun around in her seat, her wide eyes meeting Y/N’s. “He’s headed over!” she whispered, but the panic in her voice wasn’t quite authentic; more of it than Y/N would’ve expected was simply excitement.

“So I see,” Y/N said, wry amusement coloring her tone. She glanced up to her right a moment later, taking a sip of her coffee, before saying, “It’s James, right?”

Dolley let out a surprised squeak when he walked up on her left, almost flinching in her seat, and his smile was subtle.

“That would be me. And you are?” He raised his eyebrows at Y/N, taking a sip from his to-go cup.

“I’m Y/N. Dolley’s roommate,” she nodded to her with a grin. “I’m glad to officially meet you, after hearing about you for weeks on end.”

“Y/N!” Dolley murmured, urgency thick in her voice, her accusatory stare what she seemed to think to be covert. As though James couldn’t hear her from a foot away.

“I’ve been mentioned?” James looked pleasantly surprised, but there was no ego in his smile. Y/N nodded.

“Oh, yeah. More than a couple times,” she assured him. “I can’t seem to _stop_ hearing about you, really.”

He chuckled, and Dolley’s gaze softened. “I should hope that’s a good thing.”

“I can corroborate,” Y/N said. “So you’re a PhD candidate?”

“That I am. Studying economics.”

“So, what, you want to go into business? Accounting?”

“Public policy, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Her eyebrows shot up, and her smile widened into a grin. “I like you already.”

That time, his laugh was still quiet, but it was warmer, more robust. “Consider me flattered. Dolley speaks very highly of you, as well.”

“Aww, Doll!” Y/N plastered on a pout, reaching across the table. “I knew you’d been secretly in love with me this whole time.”

“You shut it,” Dolley replied, and though she gave Y/N a pointed look, she was biting back a laugh.

“Really? You still don’t wanna go public with our relationship?” Dramatized dismay permeated Y/N’s voice, and anyone would’ve had to hand it to her - the hurt look she wore almost seemed authentic.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” Dolley huffed. “That’s about enough, thank you.”

When she glanced back up, Dolley bit her lip once more; thankfully, James didn’t look put-off by the interaction, only amused. A beat passed in silence, and Y/N shifted awkwardly in her seat, not sure what to do with the heavy, prolonged eye-contact taking place across from her. It wasn’t until she picked up her mug and saucer, the ceramics clinking together, that they seemed to regain a sense of awareness.

James’s eyes were wide as he glanced back at Y/N. “I… won’t intrude on your coffee date any longer, but truly, it’s been a pleasure, Y/N.”

“Oh, no, no, don’t go.” She waved off his farewell, scrambling to pull her backpack onto her shoulder, picking up her dishes as she did so. “I have a meeting to be at that, really, I’m almost running late for, so please, stay. Keep Dolley company.”

She gave him a bright smile as she stood, pushing her wooden chair out behind her as she collected her used napkin and mixing spoon, but Dolley looked hesitant. “Oh, that’s not necessary, really. I’ll be just fine—”

“Relax, Dolley. I know you deal with crippling loneliness in my absence; it’s really nothing to be ashamed of,” Y/N reassured her, her voice mockingly gentle. Dolley rolled her eyes; the sound that escaped her was all but a snort of laughter.

“Oh, of course, dear. Because what more could I want than to spend every minute of my day with you?” she replied sarcastically, and Y/N grinned.

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse.” She took a few steps back, though, nodding to her abandoned seat as she started on her path toward the counter. “Seriously, though, James. Please, sit.”

She saw him raise an eyebrow at Dolley before she turned to discard her dishes into the basin by the end of the counter.

“May I?” he asked. When Y/N glanced back over her shoulder, she caught just a glimpse of Dolley’s sheepish smile.

“I’d like that.”

Y/N took the back exit out.

_____________________

“Are you _sure_ I was included in that invite?” Y/N’s voice was skeptical as she crossed the green toward Thomas’s office, hours later. Apparently, hours that Dolley and James had ultimately spent together, taking a walk through the city for much of their afternoon. (When Dolley told Y/N that the two-mile loop near the Lincoln Memorial had taken them two hours to walk through, she had a sneaking suspicion walking wasn’t all they were doing. Hopefully, they’d at least escaped the watchful eye of our oversized 16th president.)

“ _Yes, I’m certain you were_ ,” Dolley insisted from the other end of the phone’s line. “ _He said it’d be great if I brought you.”_

“… This sounds suspiciously like a pity invite.”

“ _It isn’t a pity invite!”_ Y/N could hear the indignance in her voice.

“Dolley, why, exactly, would he want me there if it wasn’t a pity invite?”

“ _… Because you’re my best friend, and he’s decided to make an effort to get to know you better?_ ”

She laughed. “As much as I appreciate this idealized James Madison, I have a feeling it was more to the effect of 'I just saw your roommate and feel obligated to invite her’,” Y/N corrected her. “But go to the party without me! Don’t let me hold you back from having your fun, alright?”

“ _Please come? It wouldn’t be the same without you.”_ Dolley’s voice was high, containing traces of what almost smelled like desperation. “ _It’ll make me much more comfortable to have you along.”_

Y/N groaned. “So when you and James go make out in the bathroom, I’m supposed to, what, play truth or dare with all the other PhD candidates?”

“ _Why not?”_ Dolley’s tone was mild, which made Y/N roll her eyes.

“No offense to James’s friends, but I’m not sure I want to spend an evening making stunted small talk with them.”

“ _You’re such a warm person, though! You’d be quite alright._ ”

“It’d be awkward!”

_“Please, Y/N? I’ll beg you if that’s what it’ll take.”_

She scowled at how soft, forlorn Dolley’s voice had become. As far as she was concerned, this was akin to emotional manipulation. “Does it really mean that much to you?”

“ _Yes. I like him_ so _much.”_

She sighed. “I’m gonna say yes _solely_ because I have somewhere to be and can’t deal with this argument anymore. But you owe me.”

Y/N could almost picture Dolley’s sappy smile. “ _Thank you so much, dear. You’re too good to me._ ”

“Yeah, yeah, what else is new?” Her words elicited a laugh from Dolley, and Y/N continued, “But you know I’d do pretty much whatever you asked if you asked it in that I’m-about-to-cry voice, so I’m not sure this relationship is healthy for me anymore.”

“ _Oh, of course; I’m truly a parasite_ ,” Dolley sighed. “ _Taking you into my house and home, paying for your meals — how evil of me._ ”

“I pay half the rent, and we literally only eat ramen,” Y/N defended, but the words were lighthearted nonetheless. “Next time _you_ give up five perfectly good hours of a Friday night so that _I_ can get laid, we’ll call it even.”

“ _Don’t make any calls about Friday just yet. You haven’t even seen James’s friends._ ” Dolley’s voice was just teasing enough to placate Y/N. “ _I may not be the only one having some fun._ ”

“Have _you_ even seen James’s friends?” Y/N asked dubiously, and Dolley’s silence told her all there was to know. “That’s what I thought. He’s an econ student, so it’s probably gonna be about eighty percent entitled rich men attending school on family money.”

“ _Or they could all be just your type,_ ” Dolley reasoned, but by then, any efforts to talk Y/N out of her convictions were futile. “ _Tall, hot, and older._ ”

“First off, I don’t _have_ a type, and second, just because you’re dating an ’ _older man_ ’,” — The final two words were said mockingly — “doesn’t mean that his older friends aren’t still douches.”

“ _I hate to have to be the one to break it to you, but that is_ absolutely _your type_.”

“Based on what?”

“ _That professor of yours?_ ”

“Dolley!” Y/N scowled, turning down the volume on her call just in case some passing pedestrians were notorious gossips with super-hearing. It was certainly possible. “Can you _please_ stop talking about him like that? Don’t make it a thing,” she murmured, jaw tense.

“ _Oh, we’re well past that, dear,_ ” Dolley said matter-of-factly, and Y/N could only roll her eyes. “ _But if you’ve agreed to the party, I won’t push my luck_.”

“Smart choice,” she muttered bitterly. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later tonight?”

“ _Of course_.”

With that, she hung up the phone before Dolley could take advantage of her giving mood and start making further outlandish demands, tucking it into her coat pocket as she pushed open the door to Melos Hall. Unfortunately for her, the elevator was broken, and Thomas’s office was several flights of stairs above her.

After _at least_ eight long pauses for her to catch her breath, heaving as she leaned against the railing in the stairwell, and three stomach cramps, Y/N knocked on his door. “Anybody home?”

“C'mon in.” His voice was soft, muffled through the door, and she opened it to find him all but slumped on his desk, resting his head on his hand as he graded papers he appeared to be rather cross with, and with more of said papers covering the entirety of the desk’s surface (and much of the floor). He glanced up when she entered, and a soft grin split his expression. “Hey, I thought that was you.”

“I’m in absolute awe of your pattern-recognition skills, really,” she replied, tone dry as she let the door fall shut behind her, and despite the playful smile she wore, Thomas rolled his eyes.

“You actually here for anything, or am I gonna have to kick you out?”

She laughed. “I’m not here to derail your work, I swear.” He raised a dubious eyebrow. “I was just stopping by to let you know that, assuming it’s still on the table, I’d love the TA position.”

“Oh, yeah?” His smile widened almost imperceptibly at her words, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “’M glad to hear it. Could’ve just shot me an email, though.”

She shrugged. “I was headed this way anyway. Figured I may as well stop by.”

“I’m not complainin’.” She let out a soft huff of laughter at the words, but she could feel heat beginning to creep up the back of her neck. “’S good timing, anyway. Intro to IR just turned in an essay on Kant.”

The soft groan she let out only served to amuse him further as she surveyed the wreckage of his office. “That’s what all this paper is?” He nodded in confirmation, and she scrunched up her nose. “I’m not sure if I feel worse for the freshmen who had to write them or for you having to read them.”

“Well, I should hope it’s the freshmen,” he said matter-of-factly, sitting back in his chair. The smile he wore was concerningly self-righteous. “'Cause, now, readin’ these is your job, too.”

Her eyebrows shot up; the dread in her gaze was the furthest thing from contrived. “… Is it too late to rescind my application as a TA?”

He shook his head. “Mm-mm. You’re welcome to abandon ship.”

She didn’t like the satisfaction which grew in his gaze as she weighed her options; they both knew she wasn’t considering turning down the position in earnest — that simple fact left Thomas unnecessarily smug. Another beat passed, and she sighed. “You’re lucky this is going to look good on my grad school applications.”

He laughed. “Sure am. I could use all the help I can get, right now.”

“I can see that,” she replied, voice laden with amusement at the state of his office.

However, Thomas said nothing more, and she shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with the drawn-out silence. He raised an expectant eyebrow, and it took her a moment to grasp his intention. “Wait… d'you mean, like, right _now_?”

“Unless you’re busy.” He shrugged. His gaze was hopeful as she eyed warily the small stack of papers she’d spent the past few minutes trying not to crush under her boot. She sighed.

He grinned when she bent over to pick up the papers that’d floated to her side of the desk. “As depressing as it feels to say, I’ve got nowhere else to be on this fine Friday night.”

“That’s the spirit.” He winked, and though she rolled her eyes, her amused smile was deep-set. “So, you’re gradin’ for accuracy and watchin’ out for grammar, of course, but the points are really earned for analysis. The paper’s on changes in the international system. They’ve gotta connect 'em back to Kant’s maxims.”

She let out a low whistle as she took a seat across from him, plucking a red pen from his cup and dropping her bag onto the floor. “That certainly sounds pretentious.”

He laughed lightly. “You really tellin’ me you didn’t have to do anything like this as a freshman?”

“Oh, I _wish_ I could say that, but unfortunately, my professor was apparently every bit the pseudointellectual you are.” She nodded sadly, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Hilarious, sweetheart, really.” In the dry sarcasm of his tone, the casual pet name didn’t seem to register with him, but Y/N couldn’t help but notice, and her breath caught. “Here, lemme get you a copy of the rubric. ’S nothin’ too complicated; go easy on 'em. Got some STEM majors in the class who’re just takin’ it for the graduation requirement, so I’m not expectin’ much.”

She pursed her lips. “Are the essays that bad?”

He deadpanned as he turned back to her, sliding the rubric across the desk. “At least as bad as I’m makin’ 'em sound.”

Y/N let out a long, dramatic huff, rubbing her temples, and Thomas looked thoroughly entertained at her reaction.

“I’m in for a long few months, aren’t I?”

______________________

Thomas texted her the next day, too — she’d been the one to ask for his number, its utility obvious considering she was now going to be working with him, but he didn’t give it up without teasing her just a _bit_ for asking. When she opened it, she found that his request was just for her to drop by and pick up as many more essays as she was willing to grade by Monday, but when she arrived at his office, it quickly became clear to both of them that she was in no hurry to leave.

She showed up around eight, a decision that had everything to do with her having been out all afternoon running errands and nothing to do with the unfortunately appealing idea of being in his office late into the night — or so she told herself. It was hesitant both when she offered to stay and work on them with him and when he accepted. As she’d cautiously anticipated, her new role felt like walking an impossibly fragile line, and it’d hardly been twenty-four hours.

Subliminal tension remained in the air, hanging heavier than either of them would’ve claimed, but the hours flowed by easily. The hills upon mountains of student work they had to dig through didn’t feel like the burden they were, either, not with the light atmosphere they’d managed to create, cracking jokes and swapping input.

She couldn’t place when it’d become so comfortable for her to be around him.

“Hey, can I get your take on this?” Y/N held up what must’ve been her twentieth paper of the night, red pen between her teeth, and Thomas glanced down from where he was standing beside the desk, sorting the finished papers for his classes.

“Mhm, what’s up?”

“Personally, I kind of hate this kid’s analysis, but I’m struggling to determine whether there’s anything actually wrong with it or if I’m just biased.” She pursed her lips. “Here, come look at this third paragraph.”

He set down the essay he was leafing through and walked around to join her, resting one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the desk beside her. He wasn’t looking in her direction, his lips pursed as he scanned the page. However, her heart rate had begun to pick up in the immediate proximity, and she was on edge, able to feel his body heat radiating off of him from just inches to her left. Her breath hitched when he spoke. “This essay’s a mess.”

Despite the tension in her body, she let out a surprised laugh. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Which part are you strugglin’ with?”

“Right here.” She turned the paper slightly, its words now directly facing him, and tapped on the sentence that’d given her pause. “It’s not a great interpretation of the quote he used, in my opinion, but it’s one I’ve heard in academic circles time and time again. It’s defensible, but since his organization is fundamentally nonexistent, I’m not sure how well he’s defended it.”

Thomas raised an amused eyebrow. “How much of your free time are you dedicatin’ to discussin’ Kant?”

Y/N only rolled her eyes, ignoring the thrum of her heart against her ribcage as he turned his head to face her. He was only inches away. “Oh, shut up; I’m not dedicating any.” He eyed her with disbelief, and she could tell he was still stuck on her first sentence. “I took a class focused on this book in high school, alright?”

“What kinda high school did you go to?”

“The class was through a local university.” She shrugged, and he looked rather impressed. The small smile he wore wasn’t helping her spiking pulse. “What? I was hoping to graduate from college early. I would’ve, too, if I hadn’t spent a year traveling to figure out my life.”

“And your plan for gettin’ college credit was to take a philosophy class, of all things? Does that even fulfill a credit requirement?” Despite the disbelief in his voice, he seemed somewhat fascinated with the idea, was watching her like she was some sort of a puzzle.

“Anywhere I went would’ve made me retake core classes,” she said mildly, and he cocked his head to one side. It wasn’t lost on her how he hadn’t withdrawn even a centimeter; she could feel traces of his breath on her skin. “It was just another credit toward graduation.”

He gave an obliging nod, a half-shrug at her words. “Guess so. You surprise me sometimes, though.”

“It’s also made your class a breeze, but that’s just an added bonus,” she added, and he laughed, breaking his deliberative demeanor.

“You really think my class is easy?”

She shrugged, wearing a self-contented smile. “My grades speak for themselves, don’t they?”

“I seem to remember a couple nights of office hours that’d contradict that.” He raised an amused eyebrow, giving her a pointed look, but her grin broadened.

“Listen, if you gave clearer instructions, I wouldn’t need to show up here twice a week to ask you what the fuck you were talking about, alright?”

He gave a skeptical hum. “Now, why aren’t you askin’ your questions in class, then? ’S awfully selfish; I’m sure your classmates would benefit from hearin’ the answers, too.”

“I think they’d benefit more from you actually doing your job.”

“If you aren’t askin’, how am I supposed to know what isn’t makin’ sense?” He shrugged, and the playful glint in his eyes had her gaze locked onto his. He didn’t think a single second further before he continued; over the past few minutes, his mind had reverted to its setting from one fateful January night spent in the speakeasy on 4th Street. “Or, maybe, you’ve just been comin’ here at night lookin’ to get me alone.”

She inhaled sharply; her stomach turned, and at first, neither of them broke the eye contact. When Y/N finally did, it was because her stare had trailed down to rest at his lips, and she swallowed roughly at the smug smile he wore. Her gaze jumped back to his — he raised an eyebrow. Apparently, her wandering eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Something about it was intoxicating, whether due to the musky scent of his cologne or to the wild, forbidden temptation of it all. Y/N was certain that, were this the Garden of Eden, she’d fare no better than Eve.

It was her nerves that saved her, ultimately. She was terrified to push that boundary, and despite his usually-lighthearted teasing, Thomas had resolutely decided where lay the line he couldn’t cross. Thus, neither of them moved for another moment, but Y/N drew in a shaky breath, turning her head back to the paper before them.

“So, what’s your conclusion on the essay?” Her voice was small, and it was only then that Thomas seemed to have remembered where they were. A shudder ran through his spine; it almost looked to be shaking him back to the present, metaphysically knocking some sense into him.

The silence was heavy as his eyes ran over the paper, muttering the words under his breath as he read and re-read the paragraph. He’d shifted further from Y/N, his adamant decision being that the more space there was between them, the less likely he was to forget himself, and his brow was knit as he stared down at the words. “This interpretation’s full of shit,” he huffed. “Think this kid plagiarized it; doesn’t seem like he understands it. From what I can tell, he pulled half the language from other authors.”

He picked it up with him when he drew back from Y/N, returning to his side of the desk. It was then that her breathing once again leveled out.

“So should I assume he’s not getting the complexity point?” The expression she contrived was intended to be lighthearted, but it was laden with tension.

“’S doubtful. ’M gonna have to meet with him sometime this week. Just hopin’ I won’t have to report it as some kinda case of academic dishonesty.” He folded it in half, pulling his briefcase onto the desk and tucking it in among his many other loose papers. “But for now, ’s gettin’ late; I need to head out. My roommate’ll be wonderin’ where I am pretty soon.”

He didn’t meet her eyes for another moment, instead focused on getting his office in order as much as it could be for the evening, and Y/N plunked his red pen back into its metal cup. She stretched as she stood from her chair wordlessly, letting out a light yawn. “Yeah, that’s a good call. I think we’re both a little out of it; probably not the best for grading essays right now.” She offered Thomas a conciliatory smile when he glanced over at her. He nodded.

“I think you’re right.” A moment passed in silence as he dug through one of his folders, dropped something into one of the drawers of his desk. It almost seemed offhanded when he asked, “Any chance I can offer you a ride home? Your place is on my way.”

“Oh, um…” She blinked as she trailed off, looking back at him in surprise as she picked up her bag. When she didn’t continue, only eyeing him warily, he sighed.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He shrugged on his jacket. “I don’t have some ulterior motive, alright? If you don’t wanna accept, don’t worry about it; I won’t be offended. Just wanna make sure you’re gettin’ home safe.”

“I dunno…” She paused, seeming to have corrected herself midsentence when she finished with, “… Professor Jefferson. I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”

“Your call,” he said, and he hesitated for a long moment before continuing. “For the future, can I ask you to just tell me straight out if I’m ever makin’ you uncomfortable? Wish I could pretend this was just any other circumstance—” He gestured between the two of them. “—but it’s my first time spendin’ a semester teachin’ a student who I slept with before, and I’m really tryin’ not to overstep.”

How matter-of-factly he spoke made Y/N laugh, a genuine, albeit surprised, laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m not uncomfortable; I just don’t know if it’s smart for me to keep testing my self-control.”

He watched her skeptically as she spoke, pulling her own coat back on. “… Alright, but I’m serious. Don’t hesitate to bring it up if I’m toein’ a line.”

She looked back at him, amusement thick in her gaze. “Thanks, but I’m not sure your untarnished intentions are going to stop this from being weird once in a while. It’s also my first time having a professor who I’ve screwed, for the record.”

He smiled. “I figured.”

“But if I really minded,” she continued, buttoning up her jacket. “I wouldn’t spend so much time in your office hours, and I certainly wouldn’t have agreed to be your TA. Seriously, relax.”

He sighed. “That’s… reassurin’, actually.”

“I’m glad.”

“But what was that about you testin’ your self-control?” He raised a teasing eyebrow, and she laughed outright.

“See, you say you’re trying to respect my boundaries, but when you go down that path, I have to wonder exactly where you think those boundaries are.”

“I’m drawin’ the line where it stops just bein’ talk, Y/N,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, though. ’S why I need to know _your_ boundaries. You’ve gotta talk to me; I don’t wanna push it 'n make you feel unsafe.”

“You’re a good guy for even asking this, Thomas,” she said, and he didn’t even react before she corrected herself, “Sorry; _Professor Jefferson_. But I mean it, you’ve never once made me feel unsafe. Please don’t stress over it.”

“Alright. Lemme know if that changes.” He eyed her with a certain degree of worry. “As long as we’re talkin’ about you bein’ unsafe, though, ’m still waitin’ to hear exactly how you’re plannin’ to get home tonight.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Is the offer for a ride still on the table?”

____________________

James’s house party was exactly a week from that night. It’d been all Dolley wanted to talk about ever since they were invited, and Y/N couldn’t help her consistent, underlying, low-level dread as she anticipated the event. She wasn’t intimidated by the prospect of an apartment full of graduate students; that much was genuinely the truth. The real issue she had was with being in an apartment full of strangers while her only friend present was off being wooed by the grad student she’d now had her eye on for months.

She kept repeating to herself that it was only a few hours, and then she’d be able to hold it over Dolley’s head until the day they were both six feet under.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at Dolley’s cable-knit sweater and black jeans, and she furrowed her brow.

“What’s wrong with it? We’re dressed practically the same.”

“But I’m not going there tonight looking to getting laid,” she pointed out, and Dolley huffed.

“If I change, you have to change. I can’t look like I made more of an effort than you did; it’ll make me seem out of place.”

“Come on; this sweater’s comfortable,” Y/N groaned. “I’ve already agreed to go with you; I feel like my contribution is finished. I’m not trying to look hot; I’m trying to blend in.”

“What if one of his econ-student friends is hot?”

“Then I’ll wait until the night’s over and never see him again.” The look she gave Dolley very clearly read ’ _duh,’_ and Dolley scowled.

“Come on, you don’t even have to wear anything flashy,” she pleaded. “If I change, can’t you just put on a tank top? Or something tighter? Or a skirt? _Something_?”

Y/N eyed Dolley’s expression dubiously; she’d figured the emotional manipulation would’ve ended the week before when she agreed to come to the party with her, but apparently not. Ultimately, she sighed — even these past few weeks had been the longest amount of time she’d seen Dolley attached to the same guy. She could make an exception. “Fine.”

Dolley squealed, pulling her into a hug. “Alright; go change quickly. Grab the nice vodka and meet me in the car.”

“Wait, we’re bringing the nice vodka?” Y/N called after her, incredulous. “Hang on, we spent almost twenty bucks on that! We can’t bring it to share!”

Dolley didn’t respond, and Y/N let out a sigh of defeat.

___________________

“James, hey!” When they arrived at his apartment, Dolley didn’t waste a moment before pulling him into a hug. They hadn’t even passed the doorway. While it seemed to have caught him by surprise, it only took him a second to process her sudden action before his arm fell to the small of her back.

“Hey, I’m glad that both of you could make it,” he said, nodding to Y/N with a smile as she stood awkwardly behind them. Dolley finally pulled away. “Can I get you two something to drink?”

“That would be excellent.” Dolley flashed him a wide smile as they walked in, Y/N pulling the door shut behind her.

“Actually, where are the drinks?” Y/N asked, hands tucked into her pockets as she surveyed the space. The apartment was cute, bigger than Y/N would’ve expected that James could afford on the budget of a student, and it was, as expected, littered with James’s other friends, slumped on his couch, laying on each other, seated on the floor — wherever they could fit, really. The three who’d all slotted themselves into the same armchair were passing a blunt back and forth, and Y/N wondered how difficult it’d be for her to get in on that. “We brought a bottle.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Doll, it’s in your purse, right?”

“Yeah, hang on a minute.” Dolley’s words were all but absentminded as she pulled her purse from her shoulder, unzipping it and beginning to dig through her mountains of knickknacks.

“Well, that’s nice of you, but it was awfully unnecessary.” James gave her a warm smile. “Let me show you both to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, James,” Y/N responded; Dolley seemed preoccupied with her purse, though, her brows knitting more and more tightly by the second as she overturned her empty lipstick tubes and discarded keychains. Y/N nudged her with her elbow. “Everything alright?”

She let out a heavy sigh. “We left the vodka in the car.”

“You’re kidding,” Y/N groaned. “I was looking forward to breaking that open.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Dolley said, lightly squeezing Y/N’s forearm. “Let me just run out and get it. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“No, you’re fine. I’ll grab it,” Y/N said quickly, plastering on a smile before Dolley could move. “I’d rather leave you two to your own devices. Can I borrow your keys?”

Dolley rolled her eyes at how Y/N wiggled her eyebrows; she even coaxed a laugh out of James. “Of course. Remember to lock the car, and be back soon.”

“You’ve got it.” Y/N sent her a wink as she caught the keys Dolley tossed her, turning swiftly on her heel toward their door.

_______________________

The walk back to the building’s parking garage was cold; Y/N was grateful the concrete walls were there to stifle the chill of the wind, but she regretted letting Dolley talk her into that tank top.

She’d left the bottle in the glove compartment, apparently, something Y/N only found after digging through the trunk and the backseat. She didn’t mind how long the expedition ended up taking her; the longer she could stall returning to the party, the better. The night would inevitably be painful, as she saw it; she had no desire to third-wheel James and Dolley for hours, so her best hope was to find someone to get drunk or high with.

Almost a half-hour had passed before she once again found herself at James’s apartment door, still shivering from the cold spring night and, that time, armed with 750 milliliters of Absolut Citron Vodka. She was almost grateful for how long the walk up had been. By then, she could hear the bass booming from whatever music they’d set up; the sound of heavily overlapping chatter was muffled through the door yet still notably prominent. She rang the doorbell with hesitant fingers, wondering for a moment whether or not Dolley would even notice if she spent the remainder of the night getting drunk and playing Angry Birds in her locked car.

The click of the door unlocking broke her musings.

“Hey, so I got the vodka; do you know where Dolley—?” She cut herself off midsentence when it was swung entirely open. It’d taken her a moment too long to process who was standing before her, no longer in the slacks and button-down she’d gotten used to, but instead wearing a tight, v-neck t-shirt and jeans. She held Thomas’s wide-eyed stare with one of her own. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, last I checked,” he said. Her eyes widened. “What are _you_ doin’ here?”

She eyed him dubiously for another moment, unsure whether she could’ve just been losing her mind. He just watched her tentatively, and ultimately, she let out a halfhearted, breathy laugh. “James invited me. Do you know his friend Dolley?”

“I’ve heard of her,” he responded mildly, and Y/N nodded, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Well, I’m her roommate.” He didn’t respond at first, still seeming hesitant to respond one way or another, and her shadow of a smile broadened to a cheeky grin; she extended her hand for him to shake. “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Another beat passed without him knowing quite how to react, glancing down to her outstretched hand. “… Are you serious, right now?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” She raised an eyebrow. “…and you are?”

His skepticism didn’t subside for another moment; the next ten seconds were akin to a standoff, and Y/N didn’t let up with her cheery front. Finally, he let out a breathy laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “Thomas. ’M James’s roommate.” He shook her hand obligingly, and she looked beyond self-contented at the entertained glint in his eye. “C'mon in.”

She followed him inside, self-satisfaction building in her chest, and he glanced back over his shoulder to her. “So, almost everyone’s in the livin’ room, and drinks are in the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Thanks. You’ve got a nice place,” she replied, perusing the rooms as they crossed through them. “D'you know where James is, by chance?”

“Not sure; why?” His voice was raised over the racket flooding in from all sides.

“Because wherever he is, I’m sure Dolley isn’t far behind,” she said, voice low and bordering on sour, and Thomas grinned.

“I saw them goin’ to his room a little while back, so you might not have a lotta luck.” She groaned at his words, and he laughed quietly, looking to her with tentative eyes. After a moment of hesitation, he nudged her arm. “Here, c'mon. Let’s get you a drink, and I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Quite frankly, she’d expected to be on her own for the evening, spending the next couple hours sniffing out the stoners who could help her make the time pass a little bit more quickly. Thomas’s expression was wary at her reaction. “That okay? You’re welcome to go it alone.”

His gentle tone eased her livewire nerves. She offered him a small smile. “No, no, a drink sounds excellent. Thanks.”

He grinned. “Alright, sweetheart. C'mon.” Her skin jumped under his touch when his hand came to rest at the small of her back, leading her through the tightly packed crowd alongside him, but he didn’t seem to notice. Though she could feel heat rushing to her cheeks, she followed without hesitation.

The pair emerged just a few short minutes later with two red Solo cups. Y/N appeared to be substantially less bitter than she had been, whether the smile she wore was because Thomas had managed to placate her with his advanced mixology skills (he’d never give away his elusive vodka Sprite recipe) or because of, for once, how relaxed he seemed with her, his arm having fallen to her waist as he gave her the 411 on everyone she’d soon find scattered on the couches.

Part of her couldn’t help but be surprised, though she didn’t let that ruin her relaxation. She supposed it must have just been the change in environment, but the difference in attitude between this Thomas and her Professor Jefferson seemed to be night and day. Gone was the cautious air of professionalism, the guarded front he carried when he discussed with her their most recent unit.

It may have just been because he was already two beers deep into the evening, but no matter.

Upon reaching his living room, Thomas was greeted enthusiastically by a few different (incredibly attractive) people, including the three she’d seen sharing a joint earlier on.

“Thomas!” one of the women shouted. “Come sit with us! Where have you been all night?”

“Oh, hey, Maria; ’s nice to see you, too. I’m great, thanks for askin’,” he said sarcastically, offering her a contrived smile, and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, whatever. I just don’t like being avoided, Jefferson,” she replied, giving him an unamused look. “So are you joining us or not, hm? Time-sensitive offer.”

He cracked a grin. “Yeah, yeah, alright.” He glanced down to Y/N and raised an eyebrow, a silent ask as to whether or not she wanted to stay, and she gave him a small smile, a short nod.

They both took seats on the couch opposite Maria, Thomas nonchalantly greeting the man on at its furthest end who he called 'Monroe.’ Y/N didn’t bother to question it — quite frankly, she never expected to be in any sort of situation meeting Thomas’s friends, and she certainly hadn’t seen it coming when she was leaving home that night. She shifted in her seat, feeling rather self-conscious and out of her league on this.

“And who is your pretty friend, hm?” The man sitting beside Maria turned to Y/N with a bright, curious smile. “Where 'ave you been hiding 'er from us?”

At that, she laughed — his buoyant manner eased her nerves, if only in the least. “I’m Y/N.”

Before she could determine exactly how to explain her knowing Thomas, Lafayette cut in, eyes shining. “Ah, you are ze TA, non?”

“Oh, um…” Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, that’s me. You’ve heard about me?”

“We cannot seem to stop 'earing about you, chérie,” he drawled, wearing a wry smile. “Although, I do not believe zat _someone_ told us you would be 'ere tonight.” Though he gave Thomas a pointed look, taking another hit of the lit blunt he held lazily between his fingers, and Thomas only rolled his eyes.

“James invited her, actually,” he said. “Y'know his girl Dolley? Y/N’s her roommate.”

Y/N mentally archived his words; she was sure Dolley would enjoy hearing she’d been referred to as 'James’s girl.’ Lafayette raised his eyebrows. “What a twist of fate,” he mused. “If not for James, we may 'ave only ever been able to 'ear your stories about 'er. It is lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you too.” She offered him a timid smile, adjusting the straps of her shirt. “So what’s Thomas told you about me, then?”

The woman sitting beside Maria on the end of the other couch, legs draped over her lap, interjected, “Just about everything, honey. I mean, first, all the gossip about him accidentally having slept with a student, of course.”

While Y/N was thoroughly entertained, Thomas rolled his eyes, but how he was shifting in his seat betrayed his air of nonchalance. The woman continued, “And since then, you’ve been an ever-growing saga. My favorite story is still you going to his office just to yell at him.” The look in her eyes was amused as they flickered between Y/N and Thomas. “Personally, I find it more entertaining than the grumbling about not knowing how to teach a student he’s fucked, _especially_ when the sex was _so—_ ”

“ _Alright_ , that’s about enough, Ang,” Thomas cut her off, looking more exasperated than annoyed as he shot her a warning look, and she wore a wide grin.

“Oh, come on, I was just getting started,” she complained. “Not my fault you can’t keep things to yourself. I just don’t think it’s fair to keep poor Y/N here in the dark.”

“Yeah, really, Jefferson,” Maria piped back up. “Don’t you think she should get a say?”

She raised her eyebrows at Y/N with a playful smile, and she couldn’t help the grin she wore that threatened to broaden. However, Thomas scowled.

“Remind me to get friends who aren’t gonna rat me out, next time.” He took a sip of his drink, eyeing Maria and Angelica dubiously, but neither of them wavered. Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, so you’re owning up to it?”

He looked over at her with an irked gaze, but the corners of his lips were quirked up. “You stay outta this.”

“Hey, that isn’t fair!” she protested, knocking her elbow into his, and he pursed his lips. “This is all absolutely my business. I feel like my privacy as a student’s been violated, _professor_.”

“Oh, so _now_ you’ll call me 'professor’?”

Despite how skeptically he was eyeing her, his smile grew, and she shrugged innocently. “I’ve been doing my best.”

“’M sure you have.”

“You don’t sound too sure,” she countered, taking a sip of her drink. “I don’t like having my integrity questioned. Shouldn’t you be able to trust your TA?”

“Maybe I will once you prove yourself worth trusting.” He shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. If anything, you’re the one who’s proved you can’t keep a secret.” The side of her thigh rested against his as she cast a pointed glance back at his friends. “I guess, next time, I’ll have to be sure not to sleep with such a gossip, won’t I?”

He grinned. “Good luck finding someone better.”

He looked beyond self-satisfied as her eyes widened; her heart jumped to her throat. Despite everything, the air between them was charged, and Lafayette raised an eyebrow.

It took Y/N a moment to break his heavy gaze, not having noticed the silence stretching on throughout the group. Angelica and Maria exchanged a glance. It wasn’t until he met Lafayette’s skeptical stare that Thomas cleared his throat, cracking the atmosphere.

“I’m gonna go get myself another drink,” he said, pushing himself up off of the couch. He glanced down at Y/N, and then turned to the rest of his friends. “Try not to traumatize Y/N while I’m gone.”

“Oh, no need to worry,” Lafayette said, his gaze alight, and Thomas narrowed his eyes skeptically. “We will take _very_ good care of 'er.”

Thomas returned later than he’d planned to — the couple broken bottles and failed keg stand he found in his kitchen were an unfortunate detour — but when he did, Lafayette had taken his seat, and Monroe had split. Y/N sat all but leaning into his side, giggling at whatever it was he was saying as they passed his joint back and forth, and in turn, Thomas took the now-empty seat on Y/N’s other side.

She’d just finished shouting something over at Maria when Thomas spoke, breaking her focus.

“So I see you two got awful close while I was gone,” he said, tone dry as he glanced between her and Lafayette, and Y/N only seemed to notice just then that he was even there. She turned to him with a mellow grin.

“Hey, Thomas, Lafayette was just telling me _all_ about how you went to undergrad together.” A hardly-contained giggle was concealed in her voice. He raised an eyebrow.

“That so?”

Y/N nodded, absentmindedly taking the blunt back from where Lafayette held it out to her. “I hear you were _just_ as uptight then as you are now.”

“Oh, I’m uptight, now?” When she shrugged unapologetically, he didn’t meet her gaze, instead leaning around to look at Lafayette, who looked beyond pleased with himself. “So by 'take care of her’ you meant you were gonna get Y/N high?”

Lafayette shrugged, wearing a lazy smile. “You did not ask me to elaborate on it, mon cher.”

Thomas’s deadpanned expression didn’t change, but Y/N snickered at Lafayette’s words before taking another hit. She leaned back onto his shoulder as she turned in her seat to face Thomas, scrutinizing the whole of his stature, and he winced when she inadvertently blew smoke into his face.

“What, are you _jealous_?” she drawled, her tone taunting, and Thomas raised an unamused eyebrow.

“'Jealous’?” he repeated, almost in disbelief, and she shrugged.

“Mmhmm.” Her hum of agreement was drawn out dramatically. “Why do you feel the need to judge _me_ for it? Y'know, if you wanted a hit, you could’ve just asked.” When she extended Lafayette’s joint to him as if it were an olive branch, watching him expectantly all the while, he hesitated, unsure if that was the candid conclusion she’d drawn. Her conviction didn’t waver; he could only laugh.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He leaned forward, and she looked pleased when he plucked it from between her fingers. “I think you’ve had about enough of that.”

However, moments later, he put it out on a coaster, and she whined. “Hey. Don’t be an ass.” She plastered on a pout, kicking his calf halfheartedly, and she slumped back onto Lafayette, looking up at him with disappointment. “Looks like you were right about 'uptight.’”

Lafayette matched her frown, shifting so his arm was resting at her waist as they both faced Thomas. “And to think zat I paid good money just for zat to go to waste.”

“Stop being a spoilsport, Thomas,” Maria shouted, eyeing him with contempt. “You’re not Y/N’s mother; let her live.”

“I’m not actin’ like anybody’s _mother_ ,” he scowled, throwing a pillow in her direction, and missing by about a foot.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Angelica muttered into her drink, and while Thomas glared at her, Y/N laughed.

“Oh, loosen up.” Thomas’s eyebrows shot up when she pulled her legs up into his lap, now fully laying on Lafayette’s torso. “We aren’t in class, _professor_.”

He eyed her skeptically. “Y'know, if my friends didn’t seem to like you more than they like me, I’d have started tryin’ to kick you outta here by now.” Despite his dry tone, the words held no bite, and she laughed.

“Well, I’m James’s guest, not yours, so I don’t think that’s quite within your jurisdiction,” she replied frankly, wearing a wide, sly smile. “Besides, you’re just bitter I’m stealing your friends.”

“She makes an excellent point,” Lafayette interjected, wearing a playful smile, and Y/N giggled as she leaned back to look at him. However, Thomas only rolled his eyes.

Though no retort sat on the tip of his tongue, his focus instead on how his stomach turned as Lafayette’s arm looped around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close, any chance he had to respond died the moment the brief rapport between Lafayette and Y/N was interrupted, both their voices light.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve all made yourselves comfortable.” Everyone turned, though at different rates, toward the voice at the other side of the couch. There stood one James Madison, looking as cool and collected as ever, Dolley at his side. However, she didn’t so much hold up the composed air; her hair was mussed, though she’d obviously tried to push it back into place, if only hastily, and her cheeks were still flushed pink with James’s arm around her.

“Hey, haven’t seen you two in a while,” Y/N said, wearing a sly, lazy smile. “What have you been up to back in James’s room, huh?”

“We were just talking,” Dolley defended timidly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, but her wide grin betrayed her bashfulness.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Y/N replied, voice saturated with sarcasm. “And a prerequisite for that is obviously locking yourselves in his bedroom.”

Dolley didn’t respond, just pursed her lips, only meeting Y/N’s gaze, but James laughed good-naturedly. “In any case, we’ve returned. I trust everyone’s made you feel welcome, Y/N?”

She shrugged, glancing to the group around her. “More or less. Would’ve been better if someone hadn’t decided to play bad cop and restrict any ’ _illegal or dangerous activity,’_ ” she said, tying together all the haughtiness she could manage into her voice as she gave Thomas a pointed look. However, he only shrugged unapologetically.

Lafayette took that moment to pipe up, though. “And, now, why did you not bother to tell anyone zat Y/N would be joining us after we 'ad all 'eard so much about 'er?” His tone was accusatory, but James didn’t quite seem to follow, his brow furrowed.

“What do you mean 'after we had all heard so much about her’?” he echoed, but his gaze drew back to Y/N and then to Thomas, and he raised his eyebrows, seeming to have connected the dots. “Hang on, is this _your_ Y/N?”

Y/N couldn’t have explained why she felt her skin begin to heat at the words, but she certainly wasn’t about to protest them. Thomas scowled. “She’s my TA, assumin’ that’s what you mean.”

“That was _not_ what I meant, but it answers my question regardless,” James said, but as he spoke, Dolley’s face split into a grin.

“So I take it you’re 'Professor Jefferson,’ then?”

“Thomas,” he corrected her with an easy smile, extending a hand for her to shake. “And where’ve you heard about me?” He glanced to Y/N with his words, a teasing eyebrow raised, and she huffed.

“I see that IR degree you like to flaunt must not have tested your inductive reasoning skills.” Her scowl didn’t hide her unease, and he grinned, lightly squeezing her calf where her legs were draped over his.

“No need to be so hostile, sweetheart.”

Dolley’s smile was knowing as she glanced between the two of them. “In any case, I’ve been told quite a bit about you. Though, you’re much bigger in person.”

That one genuinely had him confused. “Bigger than what?”

“That faculty profile picture on the university website that a certain _someone_ keeps showing me?” she explained, and he laughed outright. In the meantime, Y/N had managed to weasel Lafayette’s drink from his hand and drain the cup in one fell swoop, claiming that 'she needed it far more than he did.’ He didn’t put up much of a fight.

However, Thomas was far from done. “Oh, really, now?” he said, lips pursed to stifle his entertainment as he looked over to Y/N, meeting her wavering glare. “Wonder who that could be.”

Y/N didn’t respond, didn’t trust her voice enough to try to when Thomas’s hand rested on her knee, and she could feel her cheeks flare. “I don’t know how I’m expected to make it through tonight without weed,” she grumbled, shifting where she sat against Lafayette, not meeting Thomas’s eyes. Dolley’s grin mirrored Thomas’s, then.

“Aw, is everything okay, dear? Did I say something wrong?” she asked mildly, and Y/N’s withering gaze turned to her.

“Oh, don’t you start,” she said, accusation heavy in her voice as she jabbed a wavering finger at Dolley. “You’re really gonna throw me under the bus like this after I came here just so you could fuck James?”

To Y/N’s dismay, Dolley looked far from ashamed at her words, her playful expression holding firm. “I think that perhaps you’re just jealous.”

Y/N hummed noncommittally. “Mmh, don’t give yourself too much credit, babe. You’re not _that_ good in bed.”

While Dolley could only gape at her for another moment as she passed Lafayette back his empty plastic cup, something he didn’t seem to mind, James looked thoroughly entertained. “Is there something happening between the two of you that I should be worried about?”

“Nah, don’t worry.” Y/N shifted in her seat to turn, looking back at him now. “You’re more than welcome to my sloppy seconds.”

“Y/N!” Dolley all but recoiled, seemingly incredulous at the claim. When Y/N only shrugged in response, she turned to James with wide, pleading eyes. “Believe me, she and I were never together.”

“Oh?” he asked, turning to Y/N, who sighed.

“Alright, alright. I don’t wanna push it, so I’ll confess: I broke it off with Dolley before it could ever get that far,” she drawled, having contrived a forlorn facade. “Her loss, really.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Dolley said, rolling her eyes, and when a grin split her friend’s expression, Dolley turned to Thomas, meeting his amused gaze. “Would you care to corroborate?”

Then, it was Dolley’s turn to be entertained. Thomas was only glad they couldn’t see the blood drain from his face at the point-blank question, though his surprised unease was obvious in his wide-eyed stare. He tensed, and Y/N could feel it as the fingertips of his hand resting on her lower thigh tightened around her leg. “Excuse me?”

Y/N bit back a smile. She glanced between the two of them, and Dolley’s expression was a duplicate of her own hardly-suppressed laugh, but seeing Thomas’s obvious discomfort, she could only sigh.

“My buzz from Lafayette’s weed is wearing off,” she said, the words directed at no one in particular, withdrawing her legs from their place on Thomas’s lap and pushing herself up from where she sat against Lafayette. She turned to Dolley when she stood. “I’m gonna grab myself something to drink. You wanna come with me?”

She swallowed her grin. “I’d love to.”

Y/N looped her arm through Dolley’s as she began to pull away from the group, dealing out a fleeting apology to James for stealing his girl. Once they were out of earshot, had reached a quiet lull with the crowd in the kitchen, Dolley turned to Y/N with an arched brow.

“You and Professor Fuck-Me were getting pretty friendly back there, weren’t you?”

“'Professor Fuck-Me’?” Y/N repeated with a snort. “Creative.”

“I’m entirely serious, dear,” Dolley said, wearing a teasing smile as she nudged Y/N with her elbow. “I faintly recall saying something about James’s friends being just your type. Was I wrong?”

“Oh, come on, don’t do this,” Y/N groaned. “We’ve long since agreed that nothing’s going to happen. Him being James’s roommate doesn’t suddenly change the fact I’m an undergrad, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, if he and James are around the same age, he isn’t much older than you and I. So if I can get with James, why would you and Thomas be so illicit?”

“Because James doesn’t work here, Dolley,” she said, looking at her seriously as she reached for the vodka they’d brought (and she’d tucked out of sight behind the toaster next to the fridge). “Thomas, a _professor_ , getting with me, a _student_ , could end his career. You do realize that, don’t you?”

Dolley sighed as she dug through the cooler in front of the counter, ultimately withdrawing a Fanta, and Y/N quirked a brow. Dolley was either preparing to be their designated driver, or she was trying not to get so buzzed that James wouldn’t fuck her, and Y/N could only hope it was the former. After a moment, Dolley responded, “Yes, I know it’s futile, but isn’t it a nice thought?”

“…Sure.” Y/N looked skeptical.

“Oh, please, you know it, too,” Dolley reasoned, dismissing Y/N’s hesitation with a wave of her hand. “You’re clearly attracted to one another, and I’m dating his roommate. It would be—”

“Can we stop talking in impossible hypotheticals?” Y/N cut her off. “I get that you think it’d be fun, but I’m both his student and his TA. It’s not like that. He and I are friends.” The added emphasis on her final word did little to dissuade Dolley, but Y/N had something of a point. Why hope for what you can’t have?

Before Dolley could respond, Y/N went on, “But, hey, can we go back to the fact that you and James are dating now? Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bit her lip to keep back her smile. “Oh. Well, it’s not… official, really, but he asked me on our first actual date just a couple of hours ago. We’re doing dinner and a movie next week.”

“Dolley!” Y/N exclaimed, swatting her arm. Her jaw was slack, her awestruck expression mildly contrived, but her excitement was entirely genuine. “That’s so exciting. I’m really glad for you. Seriously.”

“Thank you, but we’ve yet to see how the date actually goes,” Dolley said. Y/N didn’t appreciate her dismal tone.

“You already know him pretty well. And you already know you like him,” Y/N pointed out. “I think you’ll have a good time, but you can always text me if you need me to call you with a horror story about how my spleen gave out and I desperately need you to drive me to the emergency room.”

“I appreciate the offer, dear, but shouldn’t you call an ambulance instead?”

“Under this healthcare system?” Y/N eyed Dolley as though she was losing her mind. “I’d sooner Uber.”

“How lovely to hear that you’d die if I weren’t around to take care of you,” Dolley said dryly, finally cracking open her soda. “I can only imagine what you’ll do after graduation.”

“Get health insurance, ideally,” Y/N huffed, the sound akin to a wry laugh, but her heart wasn’t in it — even with all the hot-for-teacher jokes she’d been making for the past few weeks, that was her least believable quip. She took a long sip from the fresh, new, shiny Solo cup she’d poured herself and nudged Dolley. “Hey, when we go back, you’ve gotta stop making jokes about me screwing Thomas. They’re cute behind closed doors, but you’re just making him uncomfortable.”

Dolley didn’t meet Y/N’s eyes as she started back toward their living room. “Alright, but only because I love you. I wouldn’t want Thomas to take my place in your heart.”

“Aw, Doll, he could never!” Y/N called after her, “You know I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“You’d better.” Dolley sent her a wink as they reached James and company.

When they finally turned, breaking the playful eye contact, they found Lafayette and Maria crouched on the floor beside their coffee table, laying out a hoard of plastic cups. Y/N assumed they weren’t looking to try their hand at speed stacking. “Are we playing beer pong?” Dolley asked, glancing between the pair.

“Yeah, you in?” Maria asked, raising an eyebrow as she held up a ping-pong ball between two fingers. Dolley grinned.

“Absolutely.” When she turned to James, though, Y/N was mildly offended; she folded her arms as Dolley offered him a hand. “Care to join me?”

He joined her wordlessly, giving a shrug, but he wore a wide smile, and Y/N scoffed loudly. “Excuse me?” James looked taken aback at her combative tone, turning swiftly on his heel to face her. Nevertheless, Dolley wasn’t taking her too seriously, and for good reason. “You sleep with one grad student, and suddenly, years of winning beer pong together mean nothing to you?”

Dolley rolled her eyes, glancing between her and Thomas with a sly, growing smile. “No need to be jealous, dear. I’m sure you can find a perfectly suitable graduate of your own.”

When Dolley met his gaze, watching him expectantly, he looked her up and down, a dubious eyebrow raised. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Oh, sure, act as if you don’t know,” she said, stare turning skeptical. “Y/N, you may want to find yourself a more perceptive professor in the future. I’m not so sure about this one.”

Y/N laughed when she turned back away from the table to see Thomas’s bewildered expression. “Oh, c'mon, lay off of him.” Y/N tugged Dolley back over to her by the arm, and as she finally joined her, giggling, Y/N stole a fleeting, amused glance back at Thomas before looking to Lafayette with a smile. “You need a partner?”

The man in question folded his arms, eyes shining and his brow raised. “Are you offering?”

“Only if you’re willing to accept.” She shrugged. “After all, I just got dumped by my old partner,” —she gave Dolley a pointed look to which she responded with a wide, unapologetic grin— “so it looks like I’m back on the market.”

Neither noticed Thomas eyeing them dubiously from the couch just off to one side.

“Alright zen, Y/N,” Lafayette responded, a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth. “Welcome to ze winning team. You 'ad better not tarnish my perfect record.” He threw an arm around her shoulders, and obligingly, she went alongside him to the far side of the table. Thomas knocked back the rest of his drink in one heavy sip.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Y/N said, her gaze dragging over the elaborate (and precarious) setup on the low-set coffee table — she pitied the rug beneath it; it almost certainly didn’t know what it had coming. When she looked up, Dolley and James had taken their positions across from them. However, while Dolley looked like she meant business, eyeing the scene before her, brow knit as she rolled a ping pong ball between her fingers, James looked slightly perturbed.

Y/N glanced back to Lafayette with a teasing look. “But you’d better be able to keep up.”

“Mm, I make no promises, yet with zat attitude, you may 'ave just met your match.” He looked her up and down appraisingly, and when she caught sight of the mischievous glint in his eyes as they stalled toward her hips, she swallowed hard.

“We’ll see about that,” she replied, and despite the confidence she tried to inject into her voice, the words came out meek under his heavy gaze. He grinned at the sudden timidity of her smile; when his arm came to rest at her waist, pulling her back around to look at the table before them as he promptly began talking strategy, heat rose in her cheeks. Her mouth was dry.

And Thomas was nowhere to be found.

_______________

The night didn’t come to a close for hours, which was saying something considering how late it’d begun, and several (entirely successful) games of beer pong later, the crowd was just beginning to dwindle. James and Dolley seemed to be attached at the hip, something which had Y/N feeling more conflicted than she’d have liked to — she was glad to see them happy, certainly, but her own Dolley deficiency meant that, for the most part, she was on her own in navigating her novel state of limbo with Thomas, as confusing as it was exhilarating. She could only pretend to mind it, though.

She’d latched onto Lafayette at some point among their continued victories; she’d liked to have chalked it up to his friendly, outgoing nature, making her feel easily welcome, but she couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t in large part due to the _tight_ tank top he wore and the circumference of his arms. And she made sure to tell him so, too, as the night went on and she sank deeper into the setup of what was sure to manifest an impressive hangover come morning. Lafayette’s breezy laugh at her proclamation put her at ease. Neither took the interaction too seriously.

At the end of the day, her easy willingness to fall into the mellow atmosphere he dragged alongside him had less to do with him and more to do with her desperation to stop focusing on how Thomas had hardly said five words to her since Dolley had earlier been sure to tell him how _utterly enamored_ Y/N was with him. That was also her motivation to throw back whatever liqueur came her way, and while those two impacts may not pay off long-term, for the time being, they only meant getting drunk with an unreasonably attractive Frenchman. Y/N sleeping with her professor may have been off-limits, but no one said anything about the touchy-feely exchange student with the blinding smile and the sharp tongue. She couldn’t help but briefly wonder what else his tongue was good for.

As the party finally came to a close, and as people began to say their goodbyes, the remaining attendees were scattered around their apartment, far more sparse than they had been.

Y/N stumbled out of their bathroom bleary-eyed and with her phone’s flashlight on. Dolley had long since withdrawn back into James’s bedroom, and Y/N couldn’t even complain — she was just relieved that she couldn’t hear whatever they were up to from where she stood.

She kept a hand on the wall to her right as she unsteadily navigated the straight hallway, much more of a challenge than it should’ve been, all the while her thoughts oscillating between her internal turmoil over Thomas’s sudden aloofness and how in the world she was supposed to get home five drinks closer to the end of the night than she’d begun. With her mind elsewhere, she didn’t process her flashlight catching the silhouette of the lumbering figure who’d suddenly emerged from the doorway just before her until it was a second too late.

He noticed the moment he entered the hallway, however; he didn’t have enough time to stop it short.

Y/N yelped as she stumbled forward, tripping over his shoe and grasping desperately at his clothing in her desperate bid not to end up on the floor with a carpet burn all the way down her chin and an ache in her chest.

“Woah, woah, woah.” He turned to her frantically, the panic in his eyes fueling his actions to be just quick enough. It didn’t stop her from falling — he was no miracle worker — but she fell instead into an unsurprisingly strong chest, large hands finding her waist. She dropped her phone somewhere in the havoc, and he winced as the flashlight shone directly up into his face; despite this, his expression eased when he saw the smile she wore upon catching sight of his face. “You alright, there?”

“Thomas, hey.” Her eyelids drooped in her tired enthusiasm. “Where have you been all night? Missed you. We all missed you.” The heavy pout she wore with the claim just made him chuckle, and she took in a deep breath, stifling a yawn, as she tried to pull herself up from her hands on his shoulders. “And when were you this tall?”

He laughed, helping her back up to a standing position, but back on her feet, she was still relying heavily on him for a crutch. “I’ve been around, sweetheart. Guess you just didn’t notice me.”

“Or you’ve been avoiding me,” she accused as he helped her back toward the living room. Her staggering steps were far from steady, and her voice was reduced to a weary drawl as she stumbled over her own feet.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, though. “Not my fault you’ve been so focused on Lafayette all night.”

“Not _my_ fault he was the one being nice to me,” she grumbled, but almost the moment the words left her mouth, she looked up at him with apology in her gaze. He didn’t even have time to react. “Not that you haven’t been nice. I didn’t mean that you’re not nice. You’re so nice, too. You’re _too_ nice. I don't—”

“Relax,” he cut her off, his voice soft and eyes glinting with amusement. “No offense taken.”

“This is what I mean by too _nice_ ,” she said, words slurred. She jabbed a finger into his shoulder even as they walked. “Too forgiving. Learn to be meaner.”

“So you’d rather I did take offense.”

“That’s not what I said,” she protested with a huff, the sentence sounding as childish as her intentions felt. She sniffled. “Stop twisting my words. I was so happy to see you before; can we go back to that? Meanie.”

He quirked a brow. “I’m mean again, now?”

She scowled. “No. I wish you were mean, 'cause then I wouldn’t just have to blame myself for being bitter, and it’s not fair, either, and I’m just moping 'cause you haven’t been around all night. When I walked in and saw you, I thought my night might be okay, asshole. Didn’t know I’d hardly see you.”

“You’ve seen plenty of me,” he countered, and she grinned.

“Oh, yeah? In more ways than one, right?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and his deadpanned stare only made her burst into a fit of giggles. He couldn’t help his small smile. Despite her protests of his not having been around all night, this was the most attention she’d paid him since being introduced to Lafayette, and he couldn’t say he minded the paradigm shift.

“Somethin’ like that. How much have you had to drink?” he asked, and her shrug with her shoulder pressed into his side was halfhearted.

“Lost count. I’m gonna regret it in the morning, but not so much I’m gonna spend four hours throwing up.” She grinned, trying to nudge him, but her elbow just brushed against the front of his shirt in a feat of hand-eye coordination. “So I obviously did perfect.”

“'Obviously’,” he echoed, looking down at her dubiously. Her footsteps stalled as she reached down to pick up her phone, struggling to find the button to turn the flashlight off. She struggled to stifle a yawn as she reached around to put it in her back pocket.

“Too bad you didn’t have tequila. Then I might’ve gotten less conscious. If you weren’t so fucking _nice_ , I might be pissed,” she said matter-of-factly. He just hummed passively. “Where’s Lafayette?”

“How would I know? You’re the one who’s been hangin’ onto him all night.” There was a certain gruffness in his voice that hadn’t been there before, but Y/N was too addled to pick up on it. She frowned, slumping against his chest. “You shouldn’t be tryin’ to go home with him after this many drinks, anyway.”

“I wasn’t trying to go home with him,” she pouted, but when her steps stuttered, when she struggled not to trip over her own feet, Thomas wrapped an arm tighter around her waist, and she didn’t stop him. “I was just gonna ask him for a ride home, 'cause who knows what Dolley’s up to with James by now. You don’t have to be so protective, y'know. I’m an _adult_.”

“Hey, I know,” he said softly, and although she wouldn’t have readily admitted it, his gentle tone went far to placate her. “’M sorry.”

“You should be,” she huffed. “Saying I’m just here to fuck your friends. Can’t believe it’s what you think of me.”

“It’s not; that’s not what I was sayin’,” he defended, but when he looked down at her with a frown, she refused to meet his eyes, gaze fixed firmly on her own feet. “C'mon, sweetheart. You can’t really think that.”

“You promise?” He couldn’t help his pang of guilt when she looked up at him with a wide-eyed, trusting stare, on the brink of tears. He offered her a soft smile, squeezing her side lightly.

“Promise,” he confirmed. “Now let’s get you out of here; you’re wasted. I’ll call a cab.”

She groaned. “No, don’t. I don’t wanna get in a car alone with a stranger when I’m this smashed. That’s not safe.”

Thomas chuckled lightly at her words, raising a surprised eyebrow. “How’s your judgment better when you’ve had a little too much to drink?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, and though she tried to shove him by the shoulder, he wasn’t all too dissuaded. “Are Maria and Angelica still here? Think they’d wanna carpool? They seem nice. I could probably convince them.”

“I’m sure you could, but they’re both long gone.”

“So who’s still here?” she whined, “I’m too tired to walk home. I don’t wanna.”

“Y'know, I do have a car,” he pointed out. She scowled.

“Yeah, congrats.”

“And I can drive you,” he added, looking down at her expectantly. She shifted in his grasp, letting out a noise of reluctance.

“No, Thomas, you can’t,” she said, her voice watery. “You’re really, _really_ sweet for offering, and I really appreciate it, but no, I can’t ask you to do that when you aren’t already leaving anyway. But that’s thoughtful. Thank you.”

“Seriously? I’m offerin’.” Worry was clear in his eyes as she dragged herself forward, clinging to his shoulders. “You don’t have too many options, now.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Her words were slow, the syllables dragging on as she buried herself further in his embrace. “I’m gonna find someone. What about your friend Monroe? Isn’t he gonna have to drive himself outta here?”

“’S there somethin’ wrong?” She could hear his frown in his voice. “Or d'you just really not want me to drive you that badly?”

“Everything’s okay, I’m _fine_.” She let out a short huff as he slowed to a halt, still propping her up. “I do want you to drive me, but I also don’t wanna ask you to drive me after you’ve been avoiding me all night, but I wanna hang out with you. And I know the feeling isn’t mutual, and I don’t want you to feel like you’ve _gotta_ drive me. ’M sorry.”

“Hey, what’re you sorry for?” He nudged her softly. “I haven’t been avoidin’ you. I dunno what makes you think so.”

“It’s okay; don’t worry. I get it,” she assured him, and her smile looked slightly dazed as she rested a hand on his chest. “It’s weird that your roommate invited your TA who you fucked to the house party you threw. I know you’re just trying to respect my boundaries. And you’re such a nice person for it. Honestly. Seriously.”

“I’m bein’ serious, Y/N,” he defended, despite her sappy tone. “’M not avoidin’ you.”

“You don’t gotta defend yourself! It’s okay.” She gave him an understanding smile, but as her bottom lip pushed out, it was closer to a pout. “I’m lucky you’re so careful and sweet about everything that’s happened. With us sleeping together, and all.”

“I got the implication,” he said, a trace of a laugh in his voice.

“Okay, well, I wasn’t sure,” she defended. He chuckled. “I’m just saying, I’m lucky it was _you_. It coulda been someone who wanted to exploit this weird dynamic. I’m not sure if you’ve realized, but you’ve got a lotta power here.”

He furrowed his brow. “I’d never do somethin’ like that.”

“I know,” she agreed softly, and the look in her watering eyes was doting.

She inhaled shakily when she broke his gaze, trying to continue to his living room, but again, when she proved to be a little less steady than she’d thought, her center of balance not quite where she expected, she let out a surprised squeak.

“Woah, there,” Thomas laughed, catching her before she could fall any further. She hung desperately onto his arms. “Alright, let’s go. Let me drive you home.”

She hummed reluctantly. “This is exploitation. You _know_ I’m too tired to be pretending I don’t want you to since it’d be so much more trouble for you, and I know you’re too nice to insist after I tell you not to. How am I supposed to say no?”

“You ever consider that you aren’t?”

Her huff was halfhearted, and she still wore a wide smile. “Alright, alright. You win. _Bully_.”

He grinned. “Mmh, I’m really the worst.”

___________________________

Getting her out of his apartment and down the stairwell to the garage was quite a process, but twenty minutes later, they were pulling out in his Bentley because _of course_ he couldn’t just drive a Subaru like the rest of us. They drove the first few minutes in a warm silence, Y/N still mildly addled with fatigue and vodka.

Thomas stole a glance at her to see her leaning her head back against the chair, her eyes shut, and her soft smile elicited his own. “You have an okay time tonight?”

She hummed, not opening her eyes. “Yeah. I really, really liked your friends. They were all so sweet. It was so nice of Lafayette looking out for me all night. He’s nice.”

She didn’t see Thomas’s lips quirk down. “Yeah. Lafayette’s really somethin’.”

She cracked a eye open to look at him; the tension was clear enough in his voice that even she couldn’t miss it. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

She frowned. “I know I didn’t see you much tonight, but… you know I wasn’t actually mad when you took Lafayette’s weed, right?”

The question caught him off guard, less for the question itself than for what she was reading into the sudden hostility in his demeanor. “Seriously?”

“It was no big deal,” she said softly, tapping her fingers on his car’s central console. He laughed. “I know how good your intentions were. You’re just… such a caring person.” Her huff was quiet, and she put on a small pout. “You’re too sweet sometimes, and I dunno what to do with it. Sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t. You’re such a good person, Thomas. I’m sorry.”

Her voice broke with her final sentence, and she took a deep breath, sniffling and pursing her lips, and Thomas looked over, a concerned eyebrow raised. “Are you… tearin’ up?” She didn’t respond, only nodded, trying to hold down the tears building in her throat, and his gaze melted. “Aw, sweetheart. Hey, relax. It’s ok.”

His hand covered hers where it sat on the central console, squeezing it lightly, and she looked over at him with a sentimental smile. “’M not—” She inhaled shakily. “I’m not sad. I just really appreciate you. You’re so nice. You’re always worrying about making sure I’m safe. If you weren’t around, I probably would’ve been abducted, like, probably twice by now.”

“I’m not sure tryin’ to make sure no one kills you is the height of altruism.”

“Yes, it _is_ ,” she insisted, threading her fingers into his. She didn’t see his small smile. “You’ve called me definitely at least four Ubers by now, and this is the second time you’ve driven me home. And this gas isn’t cheap.”

He shook his head, amusement shining in his gaze. “Well I’m not gonna let you pay for your own Ubers. I know how tight money is when you’re an undergrad.”

She groaned. “Stop being so thoughtful. It’s insufferable. You’re just reminding me how obnoxious everyone else is 'cause you’re always so fucking _kind_.”

He stole another glance in her direction, noting how tired her smile looked, but her gaze was soft despite her facade of exasperation. “I dunno about that. You did think I was avoidin’ you all night.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t wanna make things weird because of our weird history, and I get it! It’s probably right. But…” She turned her head, still resting against the back of her seat, to watch him. “Thanks for not making it weird or just acting like I’m some kid who you don’t wanna be around. I really liked meeting your friends. Thanks for introducing me.” Her thumb brushed across the back of his hand, and her thoughtful gaze fell to where their fingers were interlinked. “I was dreading tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?” He gave her a concerned look, and the corners of her lips twitched up. Her warm gaze was a comfort.

“Mhm. I didn’t wanna come and I wouldn’t if Dolley wasn’t _so_ into James, but she really likes him so much,” Y/N said, her lazy words running together. “I even put on my good jeans for her 'cause she was worried about being overdressed. Love her so much. But I thought this night was gonna be such a big sacrifice and, like, hours of misery.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t,” Thomas said, and her smile broadened as she met his soft eyes.

“Yeah. Me too. Thanks for treating me like we’re friends.”

“Aren’t we friends?” He raised a hesitant eyebrow at that, at the quiet notice he took of the bittersweet trace in her voice. Her eyes widened.

“I… are we?” She blinked hard, turning toward her door as he took a left turn, as she was afraid her eyes were again beginning to water. “I didn’t think you thought we were. I didn’t think you wanted to be friends, since you’re always keeping me at arm’s length, I guess.”

“I’m drivin’ you home from my apartment at one in the morning,” he said matter-of-factly. “I dunno if there’s still any degree of removal, there.”

“You didn’t want me at your apartment in the first place, and you don’t have to defend yourself.” Her gaze caught on a passing streetlight. “I just didn’t think you wanted to be friends.”

“I’d like to think we’re friends,” he said quietly, and she squeezed his hand lightly. He didn’t comment on how absurd it was that she thought this was how he treated all of his acquaintances.

“Me too.” She sniffed again, reaching up to rub at the corner of her left eye.

“And I’m sorry if I’ve been holdin’ you at arm’s length,” he added. “I’m just tryin’ to keep the fact that we slept together the first night we met from havin’ some kinda outsized importance. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re so respectful. Fuck. Thanks, Thomas,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut to hold any tears at bay. “Thanks for everything.”

He smiled. “’S been my pleasure.”

___________________________

When they arrived at her building, he offered to walk her up to her apartment, and she didn’t put up even a moment of resistance. She knew just as well as he did that trying to make it all the way up to her floor alone would be a losing battle.

They’d been waiting for the elevator for about a minute when she began monologuing an overly-emotional apology about when she went to his office to yell at him, which turned into one about how she wasn’t even halfway through the papers he needed to be graded by Monday, which turned into one about how she was exploiting him as a Google Translate substitute for her French class. (She swore she wasn’t using him as a means to an end.)

Her eyes were teary when they reached her floor, and he led her down the hall with an arm around her waist as she continued to gripe about how unreasonably kind he was.

“But I’m serious, Thomas, if you weren’t so fucking nice all the time, you wouldn’t be so easy to exploit, and I wouldn’t feel so guilty,” she whined, “I can’t believe it sometimes.”

“Sorry?” he said hesitantly, fighting back a smile at her indignance. She scoffed.

“Why’re you apologizing?” she asked, plastering on a pout. “I’m calling you nice, asshole.”

He had to laugh, then. “Sure you are, sweetheart.”

“I am!” she huffed, folding her arms and looking up at him with wide, watering eyes. “I swear.”

“Alright, alright, I believe you,” he assured her, and as she sighed, he could feel her shoulders relax against him. He looked back up, then, gaze scanning the walls of the apartment building. “Now, remind me which one of these rooms is yours?”

“566.” She sniffled, still watching him as he walked her down the hall.

“Okay. Only a little further.”

“Thanks for walking me up, Thomas,” Y/N said, the ghost of a yawn stifled in her voice. She reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes. “You’re so sweet.”

“Y'know, I think you might’ve mentioned,” he replied, tone playful, and she groaned, dropping her head against his side.

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “I’m being serious. Don’t appreciate your sarcasm.”

“I’m only playin’, alright?” He squeezed her side as he tugged her along, and she wore a soft, reluctant smile. “Now, are you gonna be okay tonight? There anything you need before I go? Are you gonna need anything for your hangover? I can pick up some ibuprofen.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” she said, her eyes drifting shut. She was too sleepy to do anything but trust that he wasn’t about to lead her astray. “Just wanna sleep. That’s all.”

“Okay.” She nearly tripped when his footsteps stopped rather abruptly, her grip tightening around his arm to hold herself up. “Looks like we’re here.”

“Shit. Right. Gimme a minute to get the door.” She withdrew her apartment key from her purse with little trouble, but unlocking the door was a different story. She put a hand out against the wall as she stepped out of Thomas’s embrace, fumbling with the lock above the doorknob, and she’d scratched three different parts of the wood finish when Thomas’s hand ghosted down her forearm.

“Wanna let me help you with that?”

She smiled when she turned to see him watching her with a brow raised. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

She passed off the key, and his other hand fell to the small of her back as he gently pulled her aside. “There you go.” He turned the knob about a minute later, handing her back the key, his gaze soft. “G'night, sweetheart.”

Though she dropped her key into her purse without protesting, before she went in, she looped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “Night. I’ll see you,” she murmured, but when she pulled away, she still hung off of his shoulders, wearing a demure smile. “Unless you wanna come in?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Y/N, you’d better not be serious.” When no sign surfaced that she may have been joking, he sighed, but his hands didn’t leave where they’d dropped to on her waist. “You know I can’t. Even if I weren’t your professor, you’re well past drunk. Go to bed.”

“Well, _I_ won’t tell,” she sang, blinking innocently. “Who’s it hurting?”

“You’re not lucid right now, sweetheart. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Uh-uh. I know _exactly_ what I’m saying.” She dragged a finger down his chest, biting her lip. “You know it’d be fun. We had a nice night last time.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, and with how hopeful she sounded, guilt was building in his chest. She frowned.

“Fine. I’ll just call Lafayette,” she scowled, and vindication flashed in her eyes at the way Thomas tensed at the words. “I’m sure _he’d_ be down for a good time.”

“Stop. Don’t talk to me like this,” he warned, voice hard, and she raised her eyebrows.

“What’s the problem, _professor_? I thought you liked Lafayette. Aren’t you two friends?” she asked, drawing out the syllables of her words. She wore a small, egoistic smile. “Maybe it isn’t too late for me to give him a call.”

“No. Don’t you dare.” He raised his eyebrows at her and nodded toward the interior of her apartment. “Get some sleep.”

“I dunno about that,” she drawled, reaching up to brush her hand across his stubble. He grabbed her wrist before she could, eyes ablaze. “I think I might go get some sleep with someone _else_. Thanks for the ride, though.”

“Y/N,” he scowled, taking a step forward, backing her through her doorway. Her eyes flashed with vindication. “Stop talking about fucking Lafayette. You know what a bad idea this is.”

“Aw, why? Is someone getting a little _jealous_?” she mocked him, pulling him toward her. He gritted his teeth. “It was obvious earlier; you weren’t fooling anyone. Did you think I wasn’t gonna notice?”

“Let’s not do this. This isn’t a game you wanna play.“ His stare was conflicted as she grinned, flipping on her living room light and taking a step further back into her apartment. He took a reluctant step forward with her with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "I’m not _jealous_.”

“Then what’s your problem with me calling up Lafayette? You don’t own me,” she said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“That’s about _enough_ ,” he said, his voice low as he fixed her with a warning look. She shrugged.

“I can make my own decisions, Thomas. I can do _whatever_ I want.”

“Not right now, you can’t.” His grip tightened on her waist, and the look in his eyes was sharp, frustrated. She grinned, pressing up against him.

"Then what are you gonna do about it, hm?” she teased, weaving a hand into his hair. He sucked in a deep breath, self-control waning. Her gaze shone with satisfaction. “How do you plan to stop me?”

A moment passed in anticipatory silence, tension heavy in the charged atmosphere, and Y/N firmly believed she’d won. When he pulled her closer, her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned in toward him; there was a skip, but she only wrapped her arms more tightly around the back of his neck, tilted her face up toward his. She didn’t quite get what she wanted.

His lips brushed against the crown of her forehead, and she furrowed her brow, re-opening her eyes. Despite her small frown, he reached up, taking her face in one hand, and brushed a hair out of her face as he eyed her with a gentle gaze. He took a small step back, wearing a remorseful, weak smile. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Get some rest for me, now.”

Before she could protest, try to pull him back in, he was out the door, swinging it shut behind him.

She was too stunned to move for another minute.

That night, the apartment felt empty.

* * *


End file.
